


She Bends But Does Not Break

by freakypet



Series: A Bird's eye view of Life in the Apocalypse [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Because Merle deserves a happy ending, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Justice, Love my Rednecks, Merle Dixon Lives, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sequel Now Complete, Slow Burn, Timeline What Timeline, Torture, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakypet/pseuds/freakypet
Summary: Art survived the end of the world when the dead rose by hiding away alone. Then she finds a man chained to a rooftop and in saving him, alters her own fate.  Now they have joined up together and headed out of Atlanta and her life changes in ways she never imagined. Will Merle Dixon be her Death or her Saving Grace? Or will she find that she has the strength to survive herself?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll start by saying that I started watching TWD as soon as it came on free-to-air TV here in Australia. I also have a severe Zombie phobia -lol- so could only watch teeny tiny portions at a time - but dammit Michael Rooker was in it so I HAD to watch, didn't I! Its no longer on free-to-air because, well its an awesome show and everyone figured it out and now we have to pay to watch it, so I'm waaaaaaay behind.
> 
> I have also taken a fairly lax view of the canon timeline - its kinda the same, but I loved the Prison so that's where I set most of this story. In my head, I pictured the Prison to be a merge between the comic version and the TV version. - So biiig yards and lots of spaces. 
> 
> As with all my writing - I did this in about a week and I'm not real happy with the ending, but I'm losing focus and have other stories wanting to be written, so I am going to stop playing with it and just post it up. There are several elements that I wanted to get in, but couldn't figure out how, so constructive criticism is always welcome - as usual, I have no beta and am a crap TWD fan so please excuse any mistakes.
> 
> It's long and I'm sure quite boring, but I had a blast writing it as I loved Merle Dixon as a character and cried when they wrote him out!
> 
> ******************************************************************************
> 
> Trigger Warnings - there are two scenes in this fic that are Non-Con/Rape and some of it is quite graphic - though I tried to not be. If this is a concern to you, this fic may not be the one for you.
> 
> ******************************************************************************
> 
> I'll be adding a chapter every night or so, that way I can edit with any feedback or suggestions or criticisms I like that might crop up :)
> 
> Please Enjoy 
> 
> ******************************************************************************

Art could hear the whole thing from her nest and silently cursed them all. Up till now her little hideaway had been pretty safe. A few looters here and there, easily avoided but for the most part they were kept away by the walkers in the streets.

But thanks to this latest fuckup of a group, the place was now well and truly screwed. As was Art if she couldn't avoid the dead bastards that were now smashing their way through the place. She huddled into her blankets as she heard the groaning and cries of the walking nightmares as they stumbled past her nest.

After a little while she heard the faint sound of a car alarm and it seemed to draw some of the dead away. But she could hear him. One man, screaming curses and pleas.  
'Shut up shut up!' She whispered in her mind, covering her ears and rocking back and forth. Finally after some long hours it seemed someone heard her for his voice quieted away.  
It was late and Art knew that it would be safer to just bunker down, eat and get whatever sleep she could while blocking out the newly close sounds of groaning dead. Surprisingly, she slept well, safe knowing that none of the dead OR those left alive would find her here.

But she woke knowing she had lost her sanctuary. It was no longer safe to sneak around the random few walkers in the store and offices now that the group from yesterday had let everything in. So she washed, tied up her waist length hair into it’s tight bun, packed up her kit, strapped it to her back and pulled herself up through the elevator roof hatch. 

Climbing the elevator service shaft ladder was easy now. Months of practice made the effort almost mindless. This time though, she could hear the groaning and stumberling of the dead as she passed each floor, where before, there had been mostly silence. 

In no time at all she reached the top and carefully opened a vent to peer out onto the roof.

She was highly surprised. There were not a single walker to be seen. She could hear them very close, snarling and banging like they were right there, but the roof seemed empty.

Then she heard a terrified yet pissed off muttering over the snarls of enraged walkers.

“That's okay. Never you mind, silly Christ boy. I ain't begged you before. I ain't gonna start begging now. I ain't gonna beg you now! Don't you worry about me! Begging you ever! I'll never beg you! I ain't gonna beg you! I never begged you before. Oh shit. No!” and the repeated sound of clinking then swearing and sobs.

Art pulled her speargun out of her pack and keeping a very close eye out, edged out of the vent, silently lowering and securely locking it behind her. You never knew when you might need a safe bolt hole again someday.

She could hear the dead and she crept up and peered around the corner. Rotted hands were reaching through the door but for some reason, the door seemed stuck, so the walkers were simply jammed up in the crack, obviously fixated on something.

All of a sudden, Art heard muffled screams and the dead at the doorway nearly tore each other apart trying to get through. Getting down on her belly, she scanned the roof and blanched at the sight of fresh red blood. Quickly looking around, she scrambled along the hot roof, yesterday’s rain having been and gone doing nothing but make everything muggy.

The screams cut off suddenly and Art froze. Speargun at the ready, she slunk along the roof, managing to keep out of sight of the rabid walkers until she saw him. 

A large male lay slumped over on the concrete, a bloody hacksaw by his hand. She kicked his leg hard, but there was no response. Praying the door would hold just a little longer, Art knelt down next to the greying craggy faced man and gagged.

Whoever that group was that fucked everything up, must’ve handcuffed this one and buggered off. Blood drizzled slowly from the not quite severed limb and the smell was driving the dead crazy. Art placed her hand over the man’s mouth and sighed when she felt a breath. 

In the world today, you didn’t help people. You left them to their own fates, and prayed they did the same for you. Most of the time, Art knew that your fate was nearly always the price of someone else’s choices. And never good for you.

She snorted and shook her head. This was NOT her problem so she squatted down, preparing to head to the other vent that led into the next building.

But the man had to go and mutter something and Art, ignoring all her experience telling her to GO GO IGNORE, leant down and placed her ear by the man’s mouth.

“I ain’t begging.” 

Her grandma had been a strongly spiritual woman and Art had lived with her for a few years. One thing that Gran always said was that your instincts, your gut feelings, were there for a purpose. Never ignore them. Art never had and that advice had saved her over and over again. Especially after everything that had gone down since the world ended.

And those damn instincts were screaming their little goddamn heads off.

With a glance to check that the door was still holding, Art moved back to the man. He had wrapped his belt around his arm as a tourniquet and had managed to get about 1/2 of the way through his wrist before the pain had overwhelmed him. She wriggled the handcuffs, but they were not coming off. Gritting her teeth and sending a prayer out, she pulled out her own knife and in three swift strikes, had completed the job. 

Art checked and saw that the stump wasn’t bleeding all that much, but if she didn’t get the tourniquet off soon, he would lose his arm and didn’t she watch something on TV once about crush injuries or toxic blood or something nasty about tourniquets? She quickly wrapped the stump up in one of her tshirts and knotted it off as tight as she could.  
Attempting to rouse the man, she tried slapping his face. No response of course, not that she really expected it to. Whats a slap to the face when you have just performed emergency surgery on yourself?

Art rifled through her bag until she found her rope and looping it under both his arms, she gritted her teeth and dragged the unconscious man to the fire escape. 

Dammit, why did he have to be a giant? Why couldn’t he be a kid or someone tiny… She cut that though off at the knees. Heehee cut off at the knees, she chuckled morbidly.

She managed to get the the side of the building, the snarls of the dead muted and not quite so in-your-face, giving her a bit of thinking space. Now how the fuck was she going to get his ass down these stairs? She could barely drag him! But before she could decide to just toss him over and hope for the best, he came up swinging.

Catching her on the shoulder, he sent her down to the ground, the gravel top of the roof biting harshly into her hip.

“Who the FUCK are YOU?” The man snarled at her, his voice booming across the rooftops, sending the dead at the door back into a frenzy.

She kicked out and clocked him in the face with the heel of her boot, sending him sprawling onto his back again before she scrambled up and held her still bloody knife to his throat.

“Shut UP you fucking moron! You WANT to get eaten?” She whispered harshly before showing him the still bloody knife and stepping back out of reach.  
“I’m the one who finished the job you started. I’m also the one trying to rescue your fat ass off here before we both become lunch. So you wanna get up or am I saying seeya?” She stepped to the side of the building, showing that she was happy to be gone. He squinted up at her, she could clearly see he wasn’t doing well, and then he glanced at his arm.

“Well shit me.” and he laughed.

Getting into the next building over was almost easier now that he would walk, or actually hold onto her and stumble, but it was better than her dragging him. At one point, he had stopped in the hallway to puke and Art had gone ahead to scout out the way to the other fire escape, the one she knew would get her to her next bolt hole. But as she was lifting the window, she heard the all too familiar sound of shuffle and spun around just in time to jam her spear lengthways into the walker’s mouth, holding it back as it snarled and gnawed on the black shaft. Behind him, another was reaching for her and she let out a whimper. She was fucked!

But suddenly both were gone and she found herself sitting on the floor, watching as the man slammed a wench down on one head and before the rotting pieces had even finished falling to the floor, he had spun around, kicked back down the one who had been chewing on her spear before and caved it’s head in as well.  
Art shook as she took in the look on the man’s face and a whole new sense of dread arose. He simply stared at her, the blackish foul blood dripping from the wrench clutched in his hand and a blank look on his face as his eyes just stared at her.  
Just as she was about to bring her speargun up, he shook his head, like a dog shaking off water and dropped the wrench as he spotted something over the side of the room. Still shaking Art clambered to her feet.

The man exclaimed somewhat happily when the flames burst into the life and Art stared in confusion. That was until he tried to take off the shirt bandage.  
“What are you doing?” She squeaked, rushing forward to pull his wounded arm away and got a shove in the chest in return.  
“Shut it girlie.” He snarled and Art watched horrified, as he thrust the still leaking stump into the blue flames. He bit down hard on the bicep of his uninjured arm and Art could hear the muffled scream but he kept his arm in the fire until the smell of burnt roast filled her nostrils before yanking it out and collapsing to his butt on the floor. He smashed his head backwards against the cabinets as tears streamed down his eyes and he held his steaming/smoking stump up in the air. His other fist punched at the floor and Art fell to her knees, shock and tears of her own visible on her face.

Art looked away as soon as the man’s breathing left hyperventilating status and moved to panting. She somehow knew that this was not a person who would take sympathy or pity well at all.  
With that in mind, she pulled out one of her precious water bottles and uncapping it, held it out until he noticed.

Without even a nod, he snatched it from her and drained it in seconds, tossing it back empty.  
“Another?” Was all he said, and with a sigh, Art dug out one more.

An hour later, they were in the Maintenance Room that was one of Art’s boltholes. Only accessible via the elevator shaft maintenance catwalk and THAT was only accessible via the roof through a razor wire enclosure.

The man’s skin was grey and sweat was pouring off of him and Art could see that he was not doing well. She had taken a huge risk and brought him to her best nest, but it was the biggest, safest and best stocked. She only hoped that the building was still walkerproofed, but the looters and other city survivors were slowly destroying that hope. Art hoped that she could at least outlast the walkers and other survivors.

But this survivor was her latest problem. Her instincts were still gnawing at her, telling her to help and she seriously considered ignoring them and just leaving. He would have everything here he would need, no reason for her to stay.

But one look at the gasping man, and she knew she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

And how true that thought came to be.


	2. Chapter 2

She had barely managed to set out a sleeping pad and bag when she heard a whispered groan and a thunk and terror in her heart, she spun, knife flying from her back pocket, but he hadn’t Turned, merely passed out.

She wrangled and rolled and tugged until she finally had him laid out on the sleeping bag and fell back exhausted. Closing her eyes for just a second, she promised she would just take a quick rest then get back to it…

It was the harsh “Sir Yes Sir Asshole Sir” that startled her from her sleep. The man was thrashing about, obviously in the throes of a nightmare and when Art grabbed his arm, the heat that rose off him was terrifying.

Scrambling, she got down a water cooler bottle of water - thank god for office blocks! - and a towel and started washing the man down, trying to cool his fiery hot skin.

Eventually, she ended up simply cutting off his shirt for easier access to his chest. Every so often, when she thought enough time had passed, she crushed up some of her aspirin and mixing it into a runny paste, gingerly wiped in into his mouth, waiting until he swallowed before repeating until it was gone. Pouring water in, even a tiny capful, caused the man to choke, so Art resorted to trickling it in via droplets from her fingers. He had already looked dehydrated before they cut his hand off and now the fever was wiping him out. 

As the days passed, Art kept her knife tucked into her bracelet, just in case she needed to put him down. It often got in the way and she was sporting numerous little cuts and nicks on her wrist and palm, but she wasn’t risking NOT having it at hand.

His stump quickly became the obvious site of infection, and Art spent long hours, cleaning and re wrapping the wound. She had practically no medicines and had risked a run into the offices below, not finding much other than some executives silk shirts and ties which she quickly snatched for bandages.

At one point, when she was dealing with the nasty side of caring for unconscious patients that no one on TV ever talked about. By now though, it was just routine. She had just finished washing him and was drying everything off (she tried really really hard not to think about what she was handling, because damn! He was packing some Heat!! Bad Nursing person! Hard Mental Slap!!), a hand had grabbed her hair and yanked her up. She had her knife at the base of his chin ready to sink it all the way in when she realised he was speaking slurredly.

“Now ol’ Merle here, never said no to a blowly, but I ain’t in the mood, so get the fuck out.” And with that, he shoved her away, causing her to fall backwards onto her back. Using the impetus, she continued rolling over her shoulder until she was on her hands and knees, braced for another attack. Damn this guy! Art swore quietly, her teeth pulled back in a silent snarl.  
But he had already passed out again.

At least she had his name now.

She had had plenty of time to study her sleeping new companion. Not much else to do when you spend 60% of your awake day dripping water into his mouth and the rest of it washing him down and tending to him. She guessed he was in maybe late 40s, greying hair and very decent muscles that were just starting to get a little padding. Handsome face with a definite jawline - Craggy is what they call it, she thought. Either way, she definitely liked what she saw. She always had been drawn to older guys.   
Surprisingly, he only had one tattoo. A military type one on his left shoulder blade and that was it. From his accent, rants and obvious look, he just screamed Redneck and her preconceived notions were that rednecks had tatts. Ah well, can’t have everything, she grinned to herself. Older, handsome, well built redneck? Ticking a few boxes in the old Spank Bank, she thought.

But at a moan from the man himself, she scolded herself and felt a flood of shame. Forcing away all thoughts, she firmly reminded herself that he was an unknown element, had already struck out several times, was aggressive even when nearly dead…. Yeah, time to freaking behave!

And that basically set the tone of the next week. Only now, Art kept one eye on her patient and stayed out of reach as much as she could. She even took to sleeping up between the top of the machinery box and the roof of the small room where he couldn’t reach even if he Turned.

So it was with a shock one ‘morning’ when Art woke up to see two clear blue eyes studying her as she slept wedged in the small space. She froze, her eyes scanning the man and the room, her heart pumping as for the first time in 10days, she wasn’t ‘alone’ anymore.

They both sat there, the minutes ticking past until Merle rolled his eyes and waved her down with his good hand.  
“Well, come on down girly, I ain’t gonna bite.” Art waited for it. “Unless ya like that sorta thing?” There it was. Let’s just say Merle had had a limited vocabulary while he had fevered away. None of it tasteful. While still hot, he was definitely hitting the “nasty” side of Man and that meant off the Want list for Art.

Keeping her knife well in hand and her eye on Merle, she slid down and stood with her back to the wall, as close to the door as she could get. It was all well and good looking after someone who wasn’t conscious enough to pee on their own, another one entirely when they are staring at you like you are a bar of gold and they’re a bank robber.

Merle rolled his eyes.

“You gotta name or what girl?”

Silence as Art remained poised and watchful.

“Jesus H Christ bitch, I ain’t stupid you know, I know what you did for me. I ain’t gonna hurt you!” He snarled and Art saw that her wariness had pissed him off. But it passed almost instantly and he chuckled. “But good survival instincts girlie, you just might make it in this end of world shit.”  
He looked around the room and noticed the bottles of water.  
“Can you stop playing statues long enough to get me a drink there?”  
Art edged forward and snatched up a bottle to throw, but he was surprisingly quick for someone who had been on death's door only a few days before.  
His wounded arm wrapping around her waist and his good hand wrapping around her throat while he hauled her back up against his front, his nose burying itself into her hair and inhaling deeply.  
“Damn bitch, you smell good!” He murmured. Art didn’t struggle, didn’t throw her head back, didn’t fight at all and she could see Merle out the corner of her eye watching her warily. She glanced down, drawing his attention to her hand. 

Her hand that was currently pressing her very sharp knife into a very sensitive area of his and as she felt him tense, she slowly pushed the blade down and in. Very slowly and cautiously, Merle opened his arms and she slid out, dragging the knife with threatening promise down the inside of his leg. One false move and she would splice open his femoral artery in a split second.

He threw back his head and laughed. He actually laughed so hard that he wrapped his good arm around his ribs while Art watched on in concern. Was the man insane? Maybe that's why he had been handcuffed to the roof?

After a few minutes, Merle patted the floor next to him.

“Sit sit, I swear, no hanky panky, just feeling peckish and seeing as you’re the boss-  
lady around here, only fair to ask polite-like.”

Art’s stupid instincts were telling her to sit, so she gingerly sat at the end of his sleeping bag, and handed him his forgotten bottle of water and started up the little gas stove to eat up a can of stew.

“It’s Art.” She said suddenly, breaking the quiet abruptly, causing Merle to look at her with curled lip.  
“Art? Wha’s art? You cracked girl?” He glared at Art.  
“My name, Art.” she repeated as she stirred.  
“What kinda dumbass name is that for a girl?” He sneered and Art shrugged.  
“And MERLE is such a great one?” She responded sarcastically so they sat in silence until Art poured the soup into a bowl and glanced at Merle from the corner of her eye. With a heartfelt sigh, Merle rolled his head side to side on the wall behind him.  
“What the fuck now ART?”

With a heartfelt sigh of her own and sending a prayer up that the soup wouldn’t end up spilt all over the room, she kneel-walked over to Merle’s side and held out a spoon. Without thinking, Merle reached both arms up to grab the bowl and spoon and quickly realised the situation. Art could see the rage building in his face and was just about to dump the bowl and roll away, when instead of throwing a fit like he had when he was sick and striking out, Merle furiously smashed his head back into the concrete walk behind him repeatedly, roaring his rage, until Art, scared for him, dropped the spoon and placed her hand on the wall instead. A crunching sound and a wave of fiery heat traveling up her arm told her she probably shouldn’t have done that, but it worked. Merle stopped and glared at her.

“Why the fuck you do that? Fucking moron bitch!” Blinking the tears back, she reached down for the spoon and biting on her lip to stop from whimpering, held the spoon out to Merle once more. He stared at her for a few moments and with a muffled curse, snatched her hand instead of just the spoon. Forcing the spoon from her hand, he studied her hand and knuckles and dropped it with a huff.   
“Ain’t nothing, you’ll be fine in a few days, stupid girl.” He ended with a mutter.

Art had had enough. She had grown used to chatting to the sleeping man and had learnt a bit from his fevered ramblings, often pretending they were having conversations to pass the time and this felt like one of those moments and she slipped into it without thought.  
“Well, Thank you Art for stopping me from bleeding over your wall. No no I mean it, thank you. And what is this? Oh soup for me? Delicious. No, I don’t mind if you hold it for me while I eat, thank you again for being a generous host and carer.” And with that, she plonked her butt next to him, held the soup bowl up and stared at him expectantly.

The next few days were a trial and a half as far as Art was concerned. Merle was a rude, misogynistic racist pig who seemed to take great pleasure in sniping at Art and scoring a reaction, any reaction. Some of it Art put down to being just plain bored and in pain and sick but she knew from his ramblings, he was just an asshole generally. So she ignored it as much as she could and continued as she had been. He was too weak to even stand without the threat of passing out, so couldn’t do much without Art’s help. 

Things came to a head on day 3 when Art ignored Merle completely to the point of packing up her looting kit as she called it and getting ready to head out to scavenge the building they were in. Merle had been bitching about the food, ordering her to fetch him water, or help him up outside to relieve himself, making constant put-down comments and sexual harassment and Art had enough. She went silent. Of course Merle thought he was winning, so he amped it up but when she went to leave the room, kit on her back, speargun loaded and knife in her back pocket, Merle seemed to realise that something was seriously up.

“Hey, HEY, girlie, where you going? You leaving me here? Oh come on, I was just kiddin, oi! OI! Get Back Here!” He yelled as she disappeared through the doorway.  
Art paused on the catwalk and took a deep breath. Then turned around and as calmly as possible, with deliberate steps, she pulled open the door and looked stonily at the furious redneck.  
“Where you goin?” Merle demanded, and Art was about to turn around and leave, when she saw that behind the bluster and fury was a fear that she thought only she had. Being alone wasn’t great before the world died. Now it could be a matter of life and death, not just physically, but mentally.  
She rolled her neck and with a sigh, dropped her kit to the floor.

Taking the time to think, ignoring the insults and bluster Merle was throwing at her, she chewed on her bottom lip until he finally fell quiet.

“I’m going to go scavenge this building and see what's left. But I need to get away. From you. You pick and you pick with words and meanings that hurt, that are meant to hurt. You’re cruel and selfish and it's no wonder you got locked to a roof. I’ve nursed you, fed you, bandaged you, wiped your ass, washed you and all i have gotten in return is venom and hatred.” She ignored his taunts as he blindly retaliated and shook her head. “I didn’t do all that for anything in return, no paybacks, no grouping up. But because it was the right thing to do. But I don’t wanna spend the last few days of my life like this. Hell, I don’t even know why I’m here if you hate me so much. When I get back, I’ll split what I find and I’ll get out of your hair. You can have my place. ”

And she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

She was gone a little longer than she had planned.

The third floor down wasn’t as secure as she had thought. Either she wasn’t the only one who thought office blocks might be a good place to hide out, or looters had breached the security and let in the dead. It took two days for Art to fight and climb her way up through floors, ductwork and elevator shafts until she was able to finally reach the relative safety of her machine room. By then, the entire building was gone to the dead. Thankfully, the roof to this building was not easily accessible by anyone or anything else so Art knew if she could just get back, she would be safe, just for a while, but safe. Safe. That word kept her going, through the pain and fear.

Shaking so hard she could barely unchain the fence and let herself in, she stumbled as she opened the door and it was like someone pulling the plug on a bath - all her energy just vanished. And so did the world around her.

She was warm and comfy and she snuggled into the downy softness of her sleeping bag as she luxuriated in the feeling of safety for once. 

Slowly, the world started to impinging on her blissful little bubble and she began to feel aches and pains all over her body. Her head ached where a very well dressed corpse had managed to pull a clump of hair out, but it didn’t have that hard sticky feeling that dried blood always left. Art went to feel the spot where she had been literally scalped and boggled at the sight of her hands. Instead of bloody, torn knuckles and torn fingernails covered in splinters and drywall and other things she refused to think about that gathered in uncleaned ducts, she had silk shirt bandages and clean skin.

She looked up and watched as Merle cooked what looked like a couple of tiny chickens over her gas stove. Groaning as she forced herself to sit up, her ribs screaming and her back feeling like she had been stabbed - thanks to some undead fuckers who managed to force their way into the janitor's closet where she was hiding trying to get her breath, and then smacking Art around as she clambered into the ceiling.

Looking down, she noticed she was wearing a clean, not-covered-in-rotting-fluids-of-walking-dead-people, and a quick glance showed fresh knickers, but no bra or pants. 

“I checked you for bites then figured I’d return the favour and clean you up a bit. I’m sorry iffn you are uncomforted with that, but I promise I didn’t do nothing inappropriate. I skipped the bra as ya’re badly bruised on ya back.” Art looked over at Merle as he turned the bird over the flame and somehow knew he was telling the truth. Arrogant pig he may be, but she guessed there were lines even Merle stood by.  
He glanced out the side of his eye and grinnned.

“Don’t mean I didn’t look though. Nice ass tat Wren!” Art blushed a deep red and Merle gawfed.

And it seemed that was that.

It took a few days for Art to recover from her adventure and Merle was pissed when she told him what happened. He asked about the nicks on her palm and she showed him her makeshift wrist holder and copped another round of Lecture The Stupid People but as Art watched, it was less at her and more just Merle being Merle. Between the two of them, over the next few days, Merle taught Art how to make a proper wrist sheath and from her stash, Merle started to fashion a prosthetic weapon for his stump. Art was worried it would muck up the healing but Merle seemed unconcerned so she let it go.

It seemed as though her little rant had had some sort of effect. Merle stopped being a complete dick and was now only an occasional dick and for the most part, pretty okay company. Nothing was said about what happened and both of them just acted as though it was done and done - as far as either of them were concerned, it seemed it was.

They now chatted as they both healed up, sharing stories, how and why Merle got kicked out of the military, how Art was really Artemis which got a chuckle from Merle. And generally bonded as apparently people do in end times. 

That’s not to say Merle was suddenly not Merle. He was still a redneck asshole. But the cruel digs and personal bites were mostly gone and the rest of it Art was okay to ignore. After all it was only the two of them. When he started to get too rude or mouthy, Art simply snapped, he snapped, they traded insults and Merle reined it in again for a while. He even pulled his share of the ‘housework’, what little there was. As they were both flirty bastards, their convos got pretty dirty but both seemed to acknowledge that it was all talk no action, just some verbal mucking about fun.

Art herself wasn’t a saint. One morning, seemingly out of the blue, Merle snapped, turning to snarl at Art to shut the fuck up, just shut up for the love of christ!   
Because Art was a chatter. Dangerous in this new world, but when safe in her nests, she would chatter almost constantly. Apparently it annoyed Merle. A lot. She tried, she really did, but if she wasn’t chatting, she was clicking her tongue, sucking in air through pursed lips and teeth to make a quiet whining sound, tapping her teeth, etc.

At one point Merle grabbed her by the collar and held his new hand blade to her cheek and rasped that if she didn’t Shut The Fuck Up Immediately, he would throw her off the damn building.

She was silent for 5 hours after that, curled up in her little nest up in the roof, hurt that Merle lost his temper. That was nothing new, his temper was NOT what you would call on any type of leash, but in their short time together, he hadn’t really turned it on her.

When he quietly called her down for supper, she shook her head and buried herself into her corner. She ignored his polite (for Merle) plea to come down, then ignored his snarled order. But she couldn’t ignore the hand that appeared over the top of the machine box and yanked her off, sleeping bag and all and caught her as she fell.  
He roughly plonked her in her usual eating spot, handed her a plate of roast pigeon and canned veggies and silently sat and ate his own meal.

It was only when she was cleaning up that he stretched out his foot and gently kicked her leg.

“Wren, ya know I wouldn’t have done that, yeah?” He asked quietly, watching Art as she played with a frayed piece of her sleeping bag. She nodded, eyes still down. Merle kicked her leg again, a little harder. “Oi, look at me woman, when I’m speakin to ya.” That got a response of a glare and a raised eyebrow. Merle chuckled, but sobered quickly.

“It ain’t you girlie. I ain’t meant to be cramped up in tiny rooms. I wanna get out of here and go find my brother. Just got cabin fever, is all.” He cocked his head at Art, smiling, trying to get a response. 

Art felt her heart sink as though it suddenly was covered in a ton of steel. Before, before Merle, she had been okay on her own - kinda. She knew she wouldn’t last forever, but she had been surviving. But the difference in having someone with you, is like the difference between dark and light. 

He was leaving. She didn’t think she could survive the dark anymore, in fact she knew she couldn’t!

To cover the sudden feeling of devastation, she shot to her feet, frantically looking at her stash, muttering and grabbing things.

“Well, you’ll need this… and these… these might weigh you down, your decision…” when suddenly she was halted by a hand gripping her hair and her face being forced to look up at his. She suddenly and randomly noticed that he was much taller than her 5’2. Then again, everyone was.

A gentle shake drew her attention back.

“Birdie, what the fucks goin through that head of your’s girlie?” Merle asked quietly, his hand still gripping her hair so she wouldn’t look away. But with a single tug from her and she felt him let the strands slide through his fingers.

“Why do you call me those names?” She asked, pacing the small room as she randomly gathered things together. Merle leaned back against the wall, his head cocked to the side, arms crossed as he watched the woman he had been living with for weeks now pace back and forth.

“What? Wren? Birdie?”

She nodded and he chuckled.

“Because a wren is this little assed bird that never shuts up. It chatters its fool head off all day and sometimes all night, just like you.” He pointed at her with his blade, a cheeky smirk on his face. She suddenly stopped and looked at him with a confused expression.  
“Huh?” Yeah, she hadn’t been listening, not really.  
“Whats with the panic Birdie? You scared about leaving your ‘nests’?” He asked as he watched her pace. But she shook her head, then shrugged, then threw a roll of paper towels on the pile. Merle rolled his eyes, shook his head and stepped close, using a finger under her chin and leaning down to meet her eyes.

“Didn't think I had to ask! Wren, you coming with me? Get the fuck outta this death hole city?”

 

She grinned so hard she thought her face would crack. “But only if I get to call you HillBill”. 

Merle just rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue.


	4. Chapter 4

Getting out of the city had been fairly easy if a little fraught. They had headed straight up to the quarry where Merle knew the group was last, but other than burned walkers and grass covered graves, they were gone. Merle had figured as much but hoped that his brother had left some kind of message. If he had, it was long gone now.

They spent the next few months basically wandering from place to place as Merle looked for his brother. He occasionally shared stories of his unnamed baby brother, making Art laugh at one where the kid had wiped his butt with poison oak, but he generally stayed quiet on that topic and Art didn't dig but just followed where Merle led.

Art didn’t care where they went. She had noone to look for, even before all this happened. 

Merle taught her how to track and hunt, it took her ages to get it and a few frustrated cuffs on the back of the head from Merle, but then one day it seemed to click and she got it right.

It was after they had barely escaped a herd of walkers one night that Art returned to her lofty nests, as Merle called them. Art was small enough that she could sleep in the trees safely away from the many dangers, but Merle struggled with one hand. It was Art that came up with the rung ladder. Merle could clamber up then once it was hauled up, they used it as a narrow platform for their stuff. It took a major fight between the two before Art could convince him to sleep in the trees. She was terrified that she would come down one morning and find his partially eaten corpse looking up at her. It only took one night's worth of nightmares from Art before he caved. Art found that her occasional nightmares weren’t so bad when she could feel Merle close by.

While Merle was more than capable at foraging and living in the woods, they both still occasionally needed the rest of an actual house. Wren, as she had started to call herself as well, still had quite her stash as they rationed it out slowly, adding to it here and there as they searched each house they came across.

As time went on, Wren found herself drawing closer to the rough redneck. He had always hit her hotspots, but his personality had taken a bit to get used to. Now, she found herself watching the man at odd times. But she never really made a move. He was older and while they both played a good harassment game, Wren didn’t think she rated anywhere above maybe a quick fuck, probably a fuckbuddy or worse - friend-not-quite-sister-status. Safer for all to just dream. But she found that he didn’t seem to mind if she grabbed his hand or sleeve, or hugged him. Once she even jumped on his back as a joke, thinking he would shake her off, but was pleasantly surprised when he simply shifted her a bit and carried her for a while, long enough that Wren lay her head on his shoulder and dozed. He in turn, would often sling his arm over her shoulders or even side hug her, with his arm around her head and and yank in for a squeeze, like they used to do on those family shows on TV. He certainly wasn’t shy about shoving her or pulling her when he wanted or needed to. 

They avoided any groups they came across. Merle knew better than most who was out there. Many times screams could be heard echoing across the skies, some short and sharp, others prolonged and terrifying. They stumbled across overrun camps often enough and it wasn’t just walkers Wren learnt about. She saw things that no walker would have done and she would stick closer to her HillBill for days after those encounters, her hand often holding the back of his shirt for comfort and her face tucked up against him whenever they stopped. Not once did he complain.

But they couldn’t keep up their luck forever. It was starting to heat up and walkers were starting to appear more and more in the scrub, leaving the cities in massive herds, making game harder to find. They had discussed finding somewhere to hole up for a while, but that day Wren had been feeling tired and Merle ordered her to rest while he scouted around, see if he could rustle up some grub or somewhere to hole up.

Wren disappeared up into her tree and Merle headed out.

He returned a few hours later with a massive grin on his face as he looked forward to bragging about the cabin he had found. But he got a real bad feeling as he approached the tree where he had left Wren. 

Scouting out the area, he whistled to let her know he was there and waited for the reply, but his blood chilled when there was no answer. Whistling again, he glanced around and hurried to the tree and looked up. And his heart stopped. Her jacket hung, torn, from one of the branches and Merle could see that limbs and bark were broken or missing. Awkwardly, he scrambled up the tree and it took im only moments to find. Fingernail grooves in the bark, broken pieces of nail left behind, imbedded in the flesh of the tree and the cut rope on the ground told the story.

Someone had taken Wren.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter - Trigger Warning for Rape/Non-Con in this chapter. Skip to the next chapter if you require.

She had actually been asleep when it happened. One moment, she had been securely tied to her branch and sleeping peacefully, the next she felt herself falling as the rope around her suddenly vanished. She clung to a branch, terrified and in shock, completely lost until she felt hands yanking her out of the tree. She screamed as she fell, clawing at branches and leaves until one slammed into the back of her head and everything went black.

She came to slowly, her head pounding so much that she went to lean forward to throw up, but found that she was already up. Leaning as forward as she could, she puked, feeling it hit her bare feet. Blearily she looked around, but everything was blurry and shifting. Someone came up and grabbed her chin, swore at the vomit and shoved her away in disgust, but all she could make out were fuzzy shapes.

A sudden faceful of freezing cold water had her gasping and gagging but it did help clear her vision somewhat.

She was in a small clearing, her hands tied tightly with rough rope and she was hanging from a tree branch. In front of her was a small fire and scattered around were all hers and Merle's stuff he had left with her. 4 men were wandering around, putting up lines with empty cans on them and stacking wood. A little way away, a truck was parked and from what Wren could see, it was full of boxes - supplies maybe?

Her attention was suddenly and swiftly brought back to herself. A man, thin and sleazy with one of those little tiny blond goatee things stood in front of her, his sneer making her whole body shake. She whimpered as he stretched out a hand and ran it up her side and grab her left breast. Squeezing it hard, he giggled as she jerked to get away, but they had her hanging up enough that her toes barely touched the ground.

“Hey, leave it Mikes, Boss gets first dibs, you know the rules.”

‘Mikes’ apparently was in the mood to disagree and reached out another hand to grab her other breast and gave it the same harsh treatment.

“Ah a little touchyfeely, he’ll never notice, not him.” Mikes chuckled and twisted her breasts, causing Wren to cry out. 

“Leave her Mikes!” Another warned, but Mikes threw a curse over his shoulder and shoved his hand down her pants and forced his fingers roughly between her folds, pinching as savagely as he had her breasts. His tongue licked it’s slimy way up the side on her neck and viscously bit into her ear lobe, causing her to struggle and cry out. He leaned back and chuckled in her face before wrenching his hands to her pants and fumbling with the zipper, all the while jamming his hardness against her hip, a promise of things to come.

There was a ‘thawking’ sound and suddenly Mikes off her and was laying on the ground in front of Wren with a small tomahawk protruding out the back of his head.

“Anyone else wanna have a go?”

Wren bit her lip hard and tried to breathe properly. No point in hyperventilating now. She had no idea how long she had been out, but the sun was started to set so she guessed a fair part of the day. Merle would have gotten back by now and seen that she was gone. Would he care? She felt the sheer panic bubbling in her system. Sure they shared this crappy new life together, she thought them at least friends, if not more. But was she anything more than company when someone is better than noone? Would he bother looking for her? She looked around the group and noticed that three more men had arrived while she had been panicking. Shit, as much as she wanted rescue, Merle couldn’t go up against 6 armed men. Blood pooled in her mouth as she bit her lip hard.

 

A tall man in a vest, smarmy ‘politician’ type smile came over to where Wren was hanging. His glance up and down her body made Wren whimper, despite her every wish not to. He merely stepped out of the way as one of the other men dragged away the now dead Mikes.

“Well, hello. Sorry about this little … ‘situation’ “ he waved his hands at her, “but the boys get a little antsy when we are out and about. My apologies. I'd let you down but... we wouldn’t want you rushing off before we get to the main event now, would we?” He smiled as though he was offering her the job of her dreams. “Now if you are a good girl, we might even let you come on back to our little camp we have going. We can always use more women.’ He crinkled his nose and smiled, looking for all the world like some flirt in a bar on a friday night, his finger coming out to slowly run down the side of her neck and between her breasts, a predatory grin on his face. Wren looked up and before she could think twice, she spat him right in the face. He snarled as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his chin, before suddenly backhanding her, sending her spinning and swinging as the blood poured from her nose.  
“Well, well, guess you ain’t gonna be a good fit there after all. Although truthfully, we had little intention of that anyway.” A few of the men around the fire laughed at the clear truth of that statement.

With a harsh hand, he stopped her wild swinging and pulled her close.

“Why don’t we put that spit of yours to a more… useful… occupation. But first, a little ride to break in the new pet...”

Wren didn’t even notice when the knife sliced open her thigh as he cut off her pants, her terror was absolute. She vaguely heard the order for a gag but her vision darkened as her legs were forced apart and her world as she knew it changed forever.

Sometime later, Wren found herself cut down and she howled through the gag as agony screamed through her stretched shoulders as her numb arms hit the ground as she kneeled in the dirt. But she wasn’t given any time to adjust as she was hauled up by her hair and felt a blade at her throat.  
Forcing her to look at him, she could feel the blade slicing into the skin of her neck and blood trickled warmly down her shoulder and into her top.

“Now, you’re going to suck my cock, and you’ll do a damn good job or I’ll slice your throat just enough and leave you out for the biters, you got that?” The knife was so tight against her neck she couldn’t even nod, so she whispered her yes as the cloth was cut from her mouth.

She gagged as he shoved his dick deep into her mouth and felt panic as he blocked her airways, her throat already aching, as the taste of blood and herself filled her mouth. As he drew back to ram in again, she took her shot. She bit down hard. The knife sliced across her neck as it jerked wildly then fell away as the man screamed, high pitched and Wren had the random almost pleased thought of “Dinner Bell for all Walkers!”

The world suddenly dimmed and fire exploded across her head as he punched her wildly, but she bit down even harder, until she felt her teeth meet. A knee came up and she was flying and slammed into the tree she had once hung from. Everything hurt and she could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness and welcomed it, urging it to hurry and take her, but like everything else on this shitty fucked-up day, it didn’t oblige.

So many fists and feet rained down and Wren could feel bones breaking and skin splitting and blood spilling until a harsh call stopped it all in a split second. She couldn't understand anything, everything hurt too much and she was dying, she knew it.

She felt the rope around her wrists being pulled and she was dragged roughly across the ground and strung back up in her tree. Both her eyes were swollen shut and she couldn’t breathe through her nose, but she could just make out one man standing in front of her. From the bright spot she assumed was the fire, she heard muffled voices and she gave up trying to hear. The pain was too great, her heartbeat was really the only thing she could hear.  
She felt the rest of her shirt being ripped off and vaguely wondered what was happening no….

Excruciating agony exploded across her back and she threw her head back and screamed. Again and again, the lava-pain exploded across her back until finally, finally and mercifully, she was welcomed into the darkness of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically - Wren is kidnapped and hurt badly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous Chapter if skipped - Wren was kidnapped and hurt.

Merle had tracked the drag marks until they turned into tire tracks. It took hours, but thankfully the dumb fucks had stuck to the dirt/grass, making following them easy.

It was getting dark when he heard the first scream way off in the forest. There was an increase in walkers, but nothing that worried Merle, With his new prosthetic hand-blade, dispatching them was easy as pie and those fuckers were noisy bastards in the scrub. But something had their attention and it sounded bad.

He picked up the pace, ducking behind and around the dead as they followed the screams as well. The screams were different now, high pitched and feminine and Merle felt a fear he hadn’t felt in decades. 

Wren.

As suddenly as they had started, the screams stopped and an expectant hush fell over the whole forest. The sun had disappeared long ago and the dead were moving faster.

Abruptly, the sounds of gunfire rang out and Merle figured that the dead had finally caught up with whoever was making all that racket. He sprinted, shoving walkers out of the way and stabbing those that looked like they were going to be a problem to him.

Feeling a bullet whiz past his ear, Merle ducked down and crept forward and felt his blood boil. 

Walkers were attempting to overrun some camp, but the men had some serious weaponry and were being successful at keeping them at bay. Someone hollered from the truck and the last few men scrambled on while still firing. But all Merle saw was the hanging woman, naked as the day she was born and walkers getting close. Looking up, he saw that the tree was a big ass one so without another thought, he was scaling that sucker like a babe to it’s momma's teat. Within moments, just as the first walker pulled Wren in for a bite, Merle yanked on the rope, unbalancing the walker who knocked his neighbour over and hauled Wren up into her beloved trees.

It took him about an hour to scale up high enough with the wounded girl that the geeks couldn’t see them and he found a nice deep bracket in the tree where several branches had spread out, making a nice concave platform. It was just big enough to lay Wren down, tiny ass little thing that she was. By the light of the moon, Merle would have gagged if he had been any other man. Blood covered her literally head to toe. He couldn’t see a single bare patch of clean skin. Running his hands over her body, he could feel fresh blood all over, but none was running or pumping and with the night dark forest full of walkers, ain’t much he could do anyway. So he pulled off his hunting pack he always took with him and he carefully wrapped her up in his old army blanket, tight as he could and he hoped it would be enough to keep her until morning.

It had taken a few days to clear out all the walkers that had gathered. Wren’s blood didn’t help as the geeks could all smell the fresh scent so eventually Merle ended up climbing down and using a long sharpened stick several times a day, stabbing the walkers from above until they were all done.

After that, he gathered everything that had been left behind by the group, reclaiming most of their stuff and surprisingly nearly half their food stash along with some the others left behind. He then carried her back to the cabin he had so proudly found days before. An old miners cabin, it was imbedded in the side of a hill, where someone had obviously not wanted to be far from his claim and literally built his cabin over the mouth of the mine. Once Merle boarded up the one window and strengthened the door, he turned his attentions to Wren.

If Wren’s nursing of Merle had been long, Merle’s shot at nursing Wren was longer and harder.

She bounced in and out of consciousness since he hauled her up into the tree, the first time had been as the sun crept up and Merle had woken from his light doze to find Wren gagging. He pulled her to a sitting position, leaned her head forward and whacked her on the back. A chunk of flesh had flown out and landed right in the centre of her lap and Merle poked it with his finger, not believing what he saw. He glanced at Wren and saw a satisfied smile on her face as she peered at him through massively swollen face. She grinned, the action pulling at the splits on her lips and bringing fresh blood to drip, but instead of telling her to cut it out and rest, he rested his forehead to hers.

“That’s my girlie!!” He whispered proudly and she rubbed her forehead against his once. “ My HillBill.” she whispered, the words merely air across her lips, but enough for Merle to catch and then she was out again. Merle looked at half a fucking penis sitting in his Wren’s lap and suddenly grabbed it and stuck it on a stick next to him. It was Wren’s trophy, she earned it, up to her what she wanted to do with it.

 

 

It was a toss up which was worse, her neck or her back. Both required a ton of stitches that made Merle curse and thank whatever was out there that she remained unconscious for the entire time. They had obviously flogged her - and hard too, the familiar looking stripes and patterns crisscrossed her back. Some were really deep and Merle was worried they wouldn’t heal at all. Her neck was also a concern. A knife wound started at the point of where her right jaw and throat met and crossed down her throat to stop at the left side of her trachea. Whoever had done that had missed vital blood vessels, but she still bled like a stuck pig if she jolted the wounds. But more worryingly, the knife had clipped her trachea and Merle had no idea if she had sustained any injuries to her voice or esophagus. Once she started healing, she could drink the soup he made if it was cool and water, but she was slow and complained that it hurt constantly and refused any solid foods for a long while.

Not that she said it in so many words. His Wren was no longer chattering away. It took weeks for all the swelling to go down and the healing to start. Broken bones were harder to work with so Merle was glad that she had only gotten a slight infection on the deeper wounds on her back. Merle thanked his grandma for teaching him herbs and healing shit if nothing else, useless bitch she was in all other things.

Now Wren truly was the dull little bird as he had once privately thought, all faded browns and greys, like before he knew her better. Somber and silent, she lay in her bed eyes shut, sleeping for at least half the time Merle reckoned, the other half off away in her head. The first thing she had done when she was finally able to sit up and feed herself, was to motion for Merle’s knife.   
He looked at her askance.  
“Wren, iffn ya’re plannin on doin something stupid and undo all my fine ass nursing shit, I’ll beat you girlie.” He warned, only half jokingly. She didn't even blink but simply shook her hand out demandingly.  
Hesitantly, he pulled his knife, flipping it and catching the blade, offered it to her handle first.

Then watched as she viciously hacked off all her hair, leaving it looking like a toddler had scalped a doll. Defiantly, Wren stared at Merle, daring him to say something, as her once long hair now lay in dark muddy coloured pools around her. He merely shrugged and silently asked for the blade back. He pulled her in to sit between his legs and set about tidying up bits she missed.

As before, they quickly fell into a routine. This time it was Merle who chatted and Wren who grunted or huffed in response.

As she had gotten better, she had taken to demanding Merle teach her how to fight. But teaching her to fight didn’t hold the terrors at bay at night.

The first time a nightmare had struck Wren was about a week after that awful night. Merle had jolted from his sleep, sure that walkers had gotten into the cabin. He quickly realised that ..  
Wren’s voice seemed well enough to scream at least and   
If she didn’t hush up, there really WOULD be walkers at their door.

Placing a hand on her mouth had gotten him punched in his mouth, so he changed tactics and carefully hauled her up on him in an all encompassing hug and put her face into his chest, crooning her name quietly as he muffled her cries. He knew the second she woke as her entire body tensed like piano wire and he was about to let go when she grasped herself to him and broke down.

Now Merle wasn’t any good with crying women. Hell, up til now, his longest relationship was 6 months with Tilly and she was tougher than boot leather and about as mean as a rattle snake.

So he followed Wren’s lead. He held her as she sobbed her anguish and terror into his chest, stroking her head and holding her close, crooning her name, but never saying any bullshit platitudes. 

Hours later and a drenched shirt, Merle sighed in relief as he felt Wren finally hiccuped once more and totally relax into sleep. He went to slide her into her sleeping bag, but her hands clutched convulsively at his shirt and a whimper crossed her lips. Merle huffed but pulled her back to his side, tucked his arm under her head and held her close as he himself caught up on his much needed sleep.

 

The first few nights after that, the nightmares would have Merle hushing Wren the same way, pulling her from her bed to his and hugging her tight. Twice she even called walkers to their door. So without a single discussion, one night when Wren went to bed, so did Merle, pulling his little Birdie in tight, her head tucked up under his chin and her arm around his waist and his arm keeping her close. 

 

And that was that


	7. Chapter 7

Wren knew she was damaged. She wasn’t a moron for Christ’s sake. Her back no longer had the flexibility it used to, the wounds and then the healing scars pulled harshly just trying to do simple things. Merle told her that she would stretch them out eventually so to just suck up the pain for the most part and stop being a princess.

Wren was thankful to all the gods and universes and The Force or whatever had led her to Merle. He didn’t baby her, or tell her it would be okay. He didn’t lie or bullshit and he sure as shit wasn’t gentle when they trained. He never got upset at her nightmares. He didn’t pry or force her to talk about anything but would sometimes would share his own stories. He finally told her how he got his own matching stripes on his back that she had sometimes wondered about. He didn’t side eye her or force to her to talk, but simply accepted that this was her now. Was it the right thing? She didn’t care. 

He asked at one point about her voice and she responding by actually speaking and telling him that she could still speak, but her voice was now gravelly and harsh and still hurt so she stopped using it. Not like she had much to say anymore, but it was like a crack had appeared in a wall, and Merle found that Wren started to use her voice more and more as time went on.

All he demanded was that she learn and heal, but in her own way and not to give up and she loved him for that.

 

One morning she had woken still wrapped in Merle’s protective clasp, her leg tossed over his stomach. She stretched and moved and felt his hard erection press against her leg. She waited for fear to rise, but that wasn’t what she felt. Not by a long shot. She wriggled slightly, all her courage in that one movement and then it was gone. Looking up, her eyes met Merle’s and with his old usual cheekiness, he raised an eyebrow and glanced down.  
“Wanna help a bloke out?” He asked before the words even registered in his brain. Wren smiled when the look of horror crossed Merle’s face and he literally facepalmed. Pulling his hand away from his face, she smiled to show she wasn’t upset and clambered out of the shared bed. She waved towards his flagging morning wood and raised her own cheeky eyebrow. With a very suggestive hand movement and a loud giggle, she darted from the room into the only other room, the ‘luxury’ bathroom with it’s rainwater barrel of water and long drop toilet, making a show of firmly shutting the door behind her. And giggled again at the frustrated yell that followed.  
“Well, I can’t do that now, can I? Stupid Bitch, quit your chuckling!!” and she washed up, still giggling at his muffled frustration clearly seeping through the wooden door.

That marked yet another stage in Wren and Merle’s healing - both had a lot to heal from after That Night. Wren started smiling and giggling more and Merle relaxed and started up his suggestive flirting a tiny bit, simply testing the waters it seemed. Sometimes it was okay, sometimes it wasn’t and they both learned to figure their way through. Merle was much more protective now, never letting Wren out of his sight and making sure she knew to stay where he could see her at all times. On Wren’s part, it was no issue at all. She only felt safe when close to her HillBill and they both got very used to Wren’s near constant touching of Merle whenever they were close. He in turn found that he always knew where she was without looking. Before the dead rose, having someone in his space that much would have had him going loco, getting in his way, tripping him up and generally pissing him off. But with Wren, it was different. After only a very short time, they got to the point that they seemed as one unit sometimes. Wren never got in his way, never tripped him up if he suddenly swung around - it was like they had become extensions of each other and in the end of world times, it was almost perfect.

 

It was when it was getting cooler that they decided to move on. The cabin was not warm enough and their stocks had completely run out, even with what Merle and now Wren could scavenge.

Wren’s back was still healing slowly, both of them knew it would take a long time but while her neck still looked sore and red, it was now essentially healed. 

They traveled for about a week, Merle taking the opportunity to continue to train Wren as much as he could. Neither of them wanted a repeat what had happened that night and what nearly did happen. Even though they had decided to stick together, both knew that it was a promise that couldn't be kept forever.

 

It happened on a bridge. 

They had been making their way through the car yard that was now most conjunctions, with Wren taking point and taking out the walkers as she found them. Earlier on, Merle had tried to swap Wren’s speargun for a crossbow, but she simply didn't have the strength required for most of them until they found a mini handgun crossbow. Best of all, they could fashion their own bolts for it easily. It didn’t have the range or power of her speargun, but it was a much quicker reload so she kept both along with the new 8in blade they found in a house that she strapped on one hip, the little blades she kept in her boots and a razor blade she had tucked in her now growing hair. Not forgetting her wrist cuff she had thankfully recovered after That Night. Merle didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the arsenal she kept tucked away. She had even tried a mouth blade she had seen in a movie once, but she couldn’t get it to work without cutting up her own mouth so Merle put a stop to that and Wren didn’t argue.

For now, she was working on her blade. Being so short, her reach was harder to get a kill hit with, so they were practicing on that the most for now.

Wren had just kneecapped a walker and head stabbed it when Merle’s whistle brought her attention to him, her body automatically returning to his side even as her eyes scanned the surroundings. He shifted and she automatically slid behind him as he looked at the far side of the bridge where they had just come from. Cars and trucks were pulling up, men hanging from the sides and Wren felt her body go cold. Merle felt her terrified grasp on the back of his shirt and her forehead press against his spine, as though she was trying to disappear inside him. But the men's attentions were on the other side and Merle felt his own body chill. A large herd of walkers was shuffling its way through the cars, most of their attention on the noisy group on the other side, but too many were focussed on him and Wren. With a curse, he pulled Wren out on his other side from the group of men and trying to keep her out of sight, they started to defend themselves.

But the others hadn’t fared any better. The herd had obviously split up sometime upriver and was only now converging, so both Merle and Wren AND the group were surrounded by a massive herd of walkers. Merle felt the railings of the bridge behind him and glanced down. Yeah, no escape that way - too high and looked too shallow to survive a jump. He looked for Wren and cursed her name. She was 5 feet away somehow and surrounded by walkers and even though her small height was working for her now as the walkers couldn’t reach over each other to get to her, she was in real trouble. He swung and battled to get to her side, not even trying to get her attention as he wanted it all on defending herself. She still wasn’t completely healed and he could see even from where he was, that her reach wasn’t smooth enough. 

Suddenly there were men around him, guns firing as they took on the herd, merging Merle into their group unconsciously. Merle used the chance to get to Wren.

He turned and screamed her name. She was pushed up hard against the railing, a walker had literally picked her up to get her nearer and she was driving her blade up into his chin, more walkers taking the opportunity to reach for the fresh meat. One of the men beside Merle fired and Merle watched as a walker beside Wren fall sideways over the railing, it’s head vanishing in a rain of red and black.

 

Taking Wren and three walkers with her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I can't wait so I'm posting the lot. Chapters should get longer now.

It was cold and she hurt, but while that wasn’t new, the cold bit was.

But the longer she stayed where she was, the less the cold bothered her, so she figured why move.

But then voices sounded and all Wren knew was that voices meant bad bad bad, so she struggled to get up, but the ground was too slippery and she kept falling back onto her face and her front and she grunted her tears and fought harder. But now her pack had slipped and tangled up her arm and she sobbed in terror. Voices voices!!

Then suddenly there were hands, touching and pulling and hurting and she fought, ‘HillBill, I promised, look I’m not giving up’ she screamed in her mind as she fought the hands that grabbed and grasped, but it was too much for her battered and damaged body and mind and she slipped into the bliss of unconsciousness.

 

 

Waking up was instant. Wren didn't move a muscle and concentrated on keeping her breathing even and slow as she took stock.

She was laying on her side on something soft, softer than blankets, mattress maybe? The smell of bodies and cooking and concrete filled her nose, along with medicine smells.

People calling and chatting, kids laughing and somewhere a baby squealed, all echoey, no outside sounds to be heard. No breeze either, so inside somewhere.

What the fuck? Wren cracked open one eye and saw that she was laying on a bunk in what looked like a jail cell? Her mind just got more and more confused and when Wren got confused, she fought. Movement caught her eye and without thinking, she flinched and stared up at the male shadow wearing a hat standing in the doorway to the cell. Snarling, Wren went to leap forward, attack and escape, but was sharply jerked back as her right wrist, with a loud snapping sound, remained by the head of the bunk and Wren fell to the floor.

Ignoring the screaming pain in her wrist, Wren tugged but found she was stuck, glancing away from the towering shadow for a split second, she saw she was handcuffed to the bunk.

She lost it. Terror swamped her and she fought against the restraint with her entire body, movement and noise behind her had her spinning around and there were men, men crowding the doorway, reaching for her and she spun herself into the corner, her arm twisted horribly, but at least her back was against the wall and partially under the bunk. She scrambled to grab any of her weapons, but they were all gone!! Even the blade in her hair!!   
Wren snarled viciously at the men, promising herself that she would take them with her this time, Merle had taught her so much now! So not again. Never again!

A hand grasped hers where the cuff was slicing into her flesh, blood was running freely down her arm and Wren lashed out a bare foot, catching the man’s forearm. She could now make out some guy with a crossbow aiming it at her and she met his eyes and spat in his direction, her whole being Daring him to fire!

Suddenly, the men were gone. Women’s voices harshly yelled and Wren watched as two women slapped and yelled and shoved the men out of the tiny space.

Women.

Wren hadn’t seen any live women in so long. Hell, she hadn’t spoken to anyone else BUT Merle in forever. Her eyes drank in the sight as both women crouched, the younger one following the older one’s directions. Wren tensed as the older lady smiled gently and reached forward and slowly the banging of Wren’s heartbeat in her ears quieted enough to hear the soft voice telling her she was safe now, no one would hurt her here, safe safe safe. Slowly and almost against her will, Wren could feel her traitorous body giving in and she sagged against the cell wall. The older woman pointed to Wren’s wrist.  
“Honey, can I take that off you now? It’s hurting you real bad.” Wren stared at her, her fear clear on her face and didn’t answer, but didn’t do anything but flinch badly when she felt the woman’s hand on her wrist. As soon as the cuff fell away, Wren pulled her arm protectively to her chest and couldn’t stop the tears as they dripped down her face. The younger woman, still couched behind the older one, seemed to let out a single moan and flee the cell and Wren looked after her confused. But Wren’s brain was too offline for the most part and she stayed huddled in her corner, clutching her broken bleeding wrist. She felt someone pull on her fingers and she went to strike, but pulled the punch when she saw it was the older lady. The lady now had a bowl of milky water and towels and bandages and from the smell, there was something medicinal in the water. Wren flinched again as the woman, so very gently, coaxed her injured wrist out and with soft hands and even softer voice, she washed Wren’s wrist, set it, because she had indeed broken it in the struggle, and bandaged it tightly. 

By this time, the woman was seated right next to Wren, her feet pressed against the same wall as Wren’s back and Wren simply watched as the woman, who several times told Wren her name was Carol, washed off the rest of the blood from her arm and Wren realised that she was clean all over and NOT dressed in her clothes. 

She struck out and caught Carol in the chest, sending the caring woman flying and Carol called out in shock.  
In an instant, the crossbow man was there again, holding his bow close to Wren as he talked to Carol. Wren snarled at the filthy man, his rage clear and when he stepped forward in response to her challenge, she slunk to all fours, ready to fight and die before anything else happened to her.

But Carol was suddenly between them and Wren’s heart beat funny for a second. No! He wouldn’t hurt her! She grabbed Carol by the back of her shirt and yank the older woman behind her and in the same move, grabbed the bolt on the crossbow and aimed it at her own head. If he fired, it would only hit her now.

Behind him a group of people had gathered, many with knives and guns but all Wren could see was the tip of the bolt and the furious eyes that she could see her death in.

But a hand appeared on the angry man’s shoulder and very reluctantly, he lowered his bow and allowed himself to be pulled out of the cell. Wren, not dropping her guard for a second, glanced over her shoulder to check the woman - Carol, her name is Carol, she reminded her foggy brain - and got a gentle understanding smile.

“Oh hun, I promise, he wouldn’t have hurt me. You really are safe here.”

It took a little while, but Wren finally felt her brain unfogging. The point she finally started to believe Carol was when a young blonde girl, no more than 16, smiling and happy and healthy with a radiant glow brought in a tray of food for both Wren and Carol - Carol hadn’t left Wren’s side - and Wren looked in wonder at Carol who simply patted her arm.

“Safe.” was all Carol said.

 

Wren stayed in her cell for about a week or so, her soak in the river combined with all her other injuries meant she developed a fever and cough. The first time the Father Christmas lookalike had come into her cell to check Carol’s bandaging, Wren felt an immediate sense of calm from him. The fact that the blonde teen was with him wasn’t bad either. Beth and her Daddy Hershel, she introduced them both. She knelt down next to Wren in her corner and asked very softly if her Daddy could check her out because he was the group’s doctor. Wren studied the old man with his gentle eyes and crutch and looked back at Beth and hesitantly nodded.  
Carol, who was sitting on the bunk next to her, spoke up with her gentle voice.

“Honey, would you feel better if Beth stayed as well?” Wren felt relief flood her system and nodded.

After that, it seemed as though word had gotten around that Wren’s cell was off limits to those of the male persuasion and if one of the men had cause to come in - which was rare anyway- they were always accompanied by Carol or Beth or Beth’s sister Maggie, the younger woman from when Wren first woke up. The only exception was Hershel. Their daily visits to check on Wren’s progress forming a friendship of sorts and Wren found herself feeling comfortable in the caring man’s company.

But she couldn’t get over her fear of the other men and even some of the women. On the third day, Wren had woken from her fever doze to find Carol and Maggie crouched beside her shaking her awake. Behind her were the two men from that first day and even with Carol and Maggie reassuring her, she pulled herself further into her corner, her fear clear in every part of her face and body. The crossbow man had snorted his disgust and waved his hand at her.  
“She’s retarded or something Rick, shouda left her where we found her.” Rick glared at the man and said something Wren didn’t catch, but which caused the man to swear and kick the wall, making Wren jump and bare her teeth warningly.

The man named Rick hunkered down into ‘a man’s crouch’ as Wren thought of it and snapped his fingers in her face to get her attention.  
Wren’s instant response, thanks to Merle doing the exact same thing, was to flip him the bird. There was dead silence for a few moments until laughter broke out of Carol and Maggie and to Wren’s surprise, even the angry man by the door. After a moment, Rick grinned ruefully.  
“Guess you aren’t too badly damaged up there then huh.” He motioned to her head with his chin and she cocked her head to to side and simply studied him in return, her features blank as she could make them as she waited for the reason for the visit. Rick looked down at the floor then back up at her as though forming his thoughts.

“We have a safe place here and we want to keep it safe, so I have to ask you a few questions. If we ain’t happy with answers, once you’re all well, we’ll load up your pack, help you out with weapons and either give you a car or take you as far as we can. Fair enough?”

Wren studied the four closely. So far, no one had been other than they had said and while they had removed all her weapons, Merle had made sure she knew some unarmed moves as well. So she wasn’t totally defenseless here and she knew she could survive out there on her own now. So she hesitantly nodded.

“Okay then.” Rick shifted and finally sat on the floor with his elbows wrapped around his knees.

“Can you speak?” Was his first question and Wren thought about lying, but a snort from AngryMan showed he knew it so she decided just to go with honesty.

She grunted, trying to clear her throat and finally managed a gravely, husky “Yeah” but it was clear that it wasn’t easy. Wren lifted her chin up to show the still angry red scar, all the more inflamed and voice roughened due to her fever and cough. All four flinched at the sight, Carol only slightly as she had seen bits of it but this was the first time anyone other than Hershel (and whoever stripped her originally, Wren thought it was Carol to be honest) had seen the extent.  
Rick nodded his thanks for her honesty. Wren heard AngryMan curse softly.

“Now I ain’t gonna ask much about your injuries, we know that life out there ain’t safe anymore, especially for women, but I gotta know if you are going to be a problem with other members of the group.”

Wren raised her eyebrow at Rick's question. She knew he was meaning the men and if she was going to freak out or attack them or whatever.

She cleared her throat again.

“No touch, no corner, no problem.” She rasped harshly and coughed .

“Can you tell us your name?” Carol asked gently as this was the first time Wren had spoken and she knew it wasn’t going to be a common thing.

Wren looked up at Carol and tears formed in her eyes.

“Called Wren”

“That your name or just what you’re called?” The AngryMan demanded but Wren just looked at him silently.

After a moment, Carol spoke up again.  
“Wren, how old are you?”

Wren looked up at the kind caring woman.

“24”

All three looked at her in surprise. AngryMan snorted.  
“I call bullshit. She ain’t any older than Beth. Maybe 17 if she’s real lucky.”

Rick ducked his head and caught her eyes.

“I guess you know why we are doubtful, but if you say 24 then that’s what it is.”

Wren shrugged. She couldn’t care what these people believed really. If they thought her younger, then more fool them. Merle said people underestimated kids and here was proof. She would take what she could get nowadays.

“How many walkers you killed?” Rick asked. By the rote tone, Wren figured it was a standard question. She blinked, cocked her head to the side and replied.

“Plenty.”

“How many people have you killed?”

Wren snarled and her hands curled into fists.

“Not enough.”

There was a long pause while Rick looked at Wren, studying the battered, bruised, damaged small woman in front of him.

“Why?” 

Wren just looked at him like he had suddenly lost 100 points of IQ.

Rick had a few more questions and Wren simply answered with nods or shakes or mouthing words and they finally left when Carol saw that Wren was getting exhausted.

When Hershel gave her the all clear, she ventured out with little urging from Carol. Wren desperately needed to feel the sun on her face and the wind in her hair, her time with Merle had made her less inclined to like the indoors.

Standing in the courtyard, Wren turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes as the sun warmed her face and shoulders. She could feel her body soaking in the heat and her muscles started to relax a little. Birds and insects sounded, the smell of green and water, the ever present stench of the dead, but faint as though a fair way away. Wren felt her body heal more in that moment, than she had in the past week.

Finally opening her eyes and looking around, she could see that they were in an actual prison - fields and fences in front and several cell blocks behind her. There were even red bricked admin offices and those sorts of buildings. A short walk and she could see what she guessed might be work sheds as well. What a setup they had here. There were people all over and Wren stared in amazement as kids ran past, giggling and apparently carefree. Had she really found a safe place?

On her insistence, she had been returned her weapons, with Daryl- as she learned his name to be - sneering contemptuously as he tossed her her mini crossbow and bolts. In comparison to his piece of weaponry, it did look like a toy, but she in no way felt diminished. She used what worked. No point in getting Big Dick Syndrome and going the big guns if you couldn’t use it properly, so she merely raised an eyebrow, rolled her eyes and stowed it on the loop Merle had made for her belt.

Her Wrist Cuff had caught Daryl’s attention the most. As he had handed it over, something had caught his eye and he yanked it out of her hands to study it closely. Wren silently snarled and went to snatch it back but Daryl simply pushed her away, causing her to drop to a crouch, her teeth bared and ready. Carol, never far from Wren, hurried over from the cooking station and stepped in between the two.  
“Wren, I’m sure Daryl is just looking and will give.it.back.now.” She glared at Daryl who ignored both women, but he at least relaxed at Carol's voice.  
“Carol, lookit. See here? That’s looking real familiar.” The unspoken conversation went unheeded by Wren who took the opportunity to dart forward, punch Daryl in the thigh, snatch her cuff and had it strapped on with the dexterity and speed of long use.

“Mine” She hissed venomously, playing with the knife that fit in it until at a look from Carol, slid it in and locked it in place. “Mine” She repeated with daggers for a glare before backing away to the field, only turning her back on Daryl and Carol once she felt grass under her bare feet.

“Hits hard for a little munchkin.” Daryl commented with a slight smirk and ducked with a chuckle as Carol took a swipe too.


	9. Chapter 9

It didn’t take long for the group to learn that Wren wasn’t a ‘people person’. The guys especially as Wren would automatically keep a certain distance and quite a few had had a knife drawn on them when they startled her. One guy, thinking he was flirting, found himself looking down the barrel of Wren’s crossbow when he tried to slide his hand up her arm.  
But the kids, kids were never an issue and they swarmed her. She would pay close attention to everything they told her, seriously listening and nodding or shaking her head as needed. The kids never asked why she didn’t talk, maybe someone had said something, but they also didn’t seem to care a whit. And they never surprised her.

Rick and the others had kept a close eye on the newcomer for the first few weeks and noticed that while the adults often triggered Wren either accidently or not, the kids never did. They always approached from the front or made unnecessary noise to tell her they were there. But even that wasn’t quite enough to explain it. Carol mentioned once in one of their leadership meetings. 

“It's not just that they know not to, it's like she seems to know where all the kids are, especially the girls, so she just knows that they are close. And they pose no threat.” 

 

The original group that had taken the Prison first, had slowly but surely taken in groups of people, a few like Wren, wounded and in dire need, but mostly bumping into groups while out scavenging or hunting. They had cleared out all of the main Cell blocks and people were settling in. Wren was in awe. There were gardens and farming plots, chickens and even pigs. The fences were still a worry, with only ⅓ of them re-enforced with pikes that kept the dead from pushing against the mesh. The rest required teams to go out and clear the dead from pressing the wire in.

It only took Wren one day to figure out what the various groups were doing.

It was Beth that noticed that Wren’s cell was empty one morning and she immediately raced to maggie’s cell. 

“Told ya! Told ya there was something off about that loony chick!” Snarled Daryl and ignored by the others. A quick scour of all four cell blocks showed no sign of the woman, but then Glenn called them outside. Down at the far end of the field, where a large herd was pushing against the fences causing it to sway dangerously, was a small figure repeatedly moving then stepping one over, swinging, stepping once.

Glenn blinked.

“Is she...is she clearing walkers on her own?”

It was Rick and Daryl that headed on down. Carol had protested, but Rick had made a point that if Wren was going to fit in, she was going to have to deal with being around the men and understanding that no one would hurt her here.

They saw her tense as they got closer so they knew she had registered their presence, but neither said anything as they picked up a crowbar each and stepping up either side of her and both ignoring the sharp shudder that wracked her short body, they proceeded to clear walkers as well.

As the last walker fell, Wren stayed staring through the wire, not looking at either man. Rick ducked down so that he could meet her eyes and she reluctantly turned her head just enough to meet his.

“Wren, we spoke about this, ya can’t just vanish without letting someone know.” 

Wren looked away and shrugged. She was feeling every single one of her 24 years today and had needed to move. When she had seen the herding mass, she had come to investigate. It certainly hadn’t been her intention to be found out here. She had managed this for three days without anyone noticing.

“Not a child.” She hissed back at him. Rick just sighed and Wren could almost feel Daryl’s grunt and eyeroll beside her.

But this was important and she had to let Rick know. Meeting his eyes again, she frowned and whispered.

“Bad”

Rick sighed, mistaking her completely.

“Nah it ain’t bad Wren, just you worried a lot of people…” Wren sharply shook her head and for the first time since she arrived, voluntarily reached out and touched Rick. He reared back and flicked a gaze to Daryl who shrugged, but Wren was busy tugging Rick over to what she had found.

Tugging on Rick's shirt sleeve, she squatted and pulled him down and pointed to the ground.

“Very bad.”

She was pointing to a pile of half eaten rats. 

Daryl of course had straight away accused her of feeding the walkers, and Wren had her blade out and ready when Rick intervened and ordered her back to the prison. Spitting on the ground by Daryl’s feet, she stormed off to clean her blade.

Rumours spread fast in such a closed community. She had always gotten side eyes from most of the people at the prison, but now it got a lot worse. Seemed most people thought the same as Daryl and why not blame the broken kid? Wren found herself staying more and more to herself. Then when the kids also started staying away, Wren figured that their parents had said something. 

The only ones that spoke to her now was Maggie, Beth, Hershel, Carol and occasionally Rick. But as everyone had their own chores and responsibilities, it could be hours if not a full day, without Wren interacting with anyone else.

Never one for sponging off others, even if she was practically an outcast in all but an official capacity, Wren strove to pull her weight anyway.

She set traps in the gardens and field and bought in a steady supply of rabbit, something Daryl used to do before he became BMOC. She would simply leave them hanging, prepped and ready, in the outdoor kitchen for the morning crew to find and would head off to the fences where she spent her day clearing the press of walkers. It seemed she was the only one who volunteered for the job, it was a nasty stinky job that while necessary, was definitely on the ‘Nope Train List’ for most people. 

It unfortunately just added to her reputation as Damaged.

And the final straw had been at about 10 weeks in.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for Attempted Rape/Non-Con so skip this chapter if its required. Very short chapter because of warnings.

A new group had been found a little over a month after Wren and after consideration, had been allowed in and placed in the probationary cells, something Wren hadn’t even known was a thing as she had gone straight into the cell block due to her injuries and her being on her own. 

Being as Wren was usually outside before the sun was up and often napped in the quiet of the cell blocks in the afternoon, along with being on the outs with everyone, she wasn’t even aware there were new people. They had apparently passed whatever rules the Council had and had been set up in one of the newly cleared cell blocks. 

Wren was drying off after her afternoon shower - the quietest time and therefore she avoided anyone seeing her scars, when she heard a scuffling in the corridor. Throwing her clothes on over wet skin, she darted silently behind one of the hanging privacy curtains and waited. But after a while of no more noises, she decided to race to her cell and the protection of her weapons.

But she had not taken more than two steps into the darkened corridor when rough hands grasped her, a hand over her mouth and the other around her tender throat. His fingers instantly found the scar and dug in cruelly, causing Wren to almost black out from the pain.

“Been watchin you, Renny, oh yes. Me and you, we’re gonna have some fun!” The unknown man’s hand slid down from her mouth and sliding under her damp top, cupped a breast and squeezed. She froze. No no nononononono. It was like she was back in that camp, hands and tongue and all evil just sliming over her. She threw her hands up and tried to pry the hand away from her throat, wriggling and thrashing, but her terror made her weak.

He was still talking, foulness oozing from his mouth as he tore her shirt open.

“You n me, we is gonna have a reeeeeal good time and you can’t say shit, can ya? HA! Fucked up little reject like you, all alone all the time. Yeah, I’m thinking you n me gonna be friends for a good long while and no one will even notice.” While he had been groping and sliming words in her ear, he had been dragging her off deeper into the tombs.

She was starting to black out from the pressure on her throat. Both her airway and arteries compressed as he took pleasure in the pain of crushing her scar.

“Fight, ya stupid bitch! What the HELL did I bother teaching ya anythin iffn ya’re just gonna let some asshole have it at the first chance?” She sobbed as she heard Merle’s voice echoing in her head. “FIGHT!” He seemed to scream at her and it seemed to shake her out of her stupor.  
She suddenly sagged, willing her body to heavily pull at the man holding her. The surprise of her suddenly stop fighting him, stalled him for a moment as he struggled to not drop the loose body in his arms and that was all it took.

She roared her fury as she jack-knifed off the floor and slammed the roof of her head up into his jaw, hearing it crunch as teeth smashed together. Dropping back to a couch, she slammed her head backwards, using her legs as springboards and the back of her head rammed into his erect cock with enough force that it sent him flying backwards into the dark of the tombs. 

Wren vaguely registered the sounds of voices and running feet as she turned and advanced on the screaming sobbing man who was clutching his jaw with both hands and had his knees drawn up to his belly.

With bare feet, she kicked out and slammed her foot up between his legs, her foot momentarily disappearing into his ass crack, but with enough force to cause the man to scream long and loud as the hit reached his damaged tackle. It also caused him to straighten out his legs, giving Wren enough of a chance to lay another kick to the groin then another, this time to his stomach. A retching and the sound and smell of vomit told Wren she had connected well. She was just about to lay a kick to his head, when she was body slammed and sent flying off into the corridor herself. Her head slammed into the wall and the world lit up with pretty stars, yet Wren knew she wasn’t safe. Staggering to her knees, she blinked through the haze and struck out at the body that came at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically - Wren gets attacked, almost assaulted but kicks ass seriously!


	11. Chapter 11

Arms wrapped around her and grasped her wrists tightly, forcing her into the cold concrete, the weight of the heavy body on top of her pulling up reserves for more fighting. Legs pinned hers together and her wrists were being held against her chest, her face pressed into a hard chest and suddenly, suddenly the fight left her. Merle? She drew in a deep sobbing breath. Tobacco, car and gun oil, sweat, blood and animals and all the smells that she had associated with her HillBill flooded her senses. Wren immediately leaned into the chest and wailed. She cried her fear and loneliness and terror and of missing him in a world that had been only theirs for so long. Slowly the arms around her softened and went from restraint to embrace as she sobbed and sobbed her harsh, croaky tears. 

She didn’t register the movement of being shifted to a carrying position, nor did she notice the change from the dark of the tombs to the quiet of the emptied cellblock. She simply clung to the vest that smelled of safety and sobbed herself asleep.

She didn’t sleep long. Feeling herself being settled down on a mattress was enough to startle her awake and her eyes shot open, the attack fresh on her mind, she struck out, but her hand was caught and gently laid on the bed. She looked up and saw Daryl. He waited until he saw recognition show on her face before he carefully released her hand and grabbed the blanked off the top bunk to lay over her. Looking down, she realised she was wearing nothing but her pants, her shirt obviously lost in the attack.

She couldn’t help herself, her eyes skimmed the room, looking for Merle, his scent was still in her nose, the touch of his strong arms around her still warm on her skin. But there was only Daryl stood there, his face a contradiction of fury and sorrow as his eyes were locked on her. Her back to be precise. She didn't notice. All her attention was on the only thought in her head.

Before she could stop herself, she beckoned him closer and carefully he crouched down and leaned in as though she was going to say something. Instead, he got the shock of his life when she sniffed his shoulder. Sniffed him. Like a dog.

Confusion and hurt crossed her face and he would have given anything to know what was going on in her crazy ass head. 

She leaned up more and this time, buried her face right in his chest, as he had done when he was controlling her below. He felt the draw of air as she inhaled and caught the sob as she pulled away, tears starting fresh as she shook her head, grief plain on her face.

Suddenly, it hit him. She had recognised something about his scent, someone else maybe? But the thought was chased from his mind as Carol and Hershel and Rick all crowded in the tiny cell. Daryl felt an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness, even though they were only there to help. But at the reaching hands, Wren drew away, fear coming back onto her face and her body shook.

Surprising even himself, Daryl stepped up and murmured that maybe only one at a time and that Hershel should be the first? They quickly filed out and Daryl pulled the privacy curtain across although they could all still hear Hershel's quiet questions.

After a few moments, Hershel sighed and came out.

“She isn’t talking.” Daryl huffed and the Doctor glared at him. “Not even her kinda talking. She’s just laying there staring at the wall. But she did let me at least look her over.” Daryl tensed and sensed the others did too.

“Seems Like Luke and Molly were right. He got her by the neck. Her throat is damaged again, it's bruised already and I reckon it's gonna swell so I want to keep an eye on her overnight. Both eyes have severe petechial hemorrhaging as well as a lump on the top of her head. Scratches on both breasts and it looks like she’s broken some bones in her right foot. If those kids hadn’t been there and been so quick to get help...” Silence filled the space between the group and Carol looked away over the railing, covering her mouth and subtly wiping away the tear that escaped. Daryl nudged her with his shoulder and she looked at him.  
“I promised her she was safe here.” She whispered, her eyes filling with tears and Rick leaned over to hug the sad woman.  
“We all did Carol.” 

 

Wren hadn’t given up, she just didn’t care. Was there even a difference? She could hear them all talking about her outside her room as though she wasn’t there and it still didn’t register. 

She was numb. For one second, one moment in this horrible horror filled world, she thought something was going her way, only no, of course not. Instead of giving her her HillBill back, her Merle, the universe gave her someone who hated her to taunt her with instead.

It had been hard enough hearing the familiar sounding accent, but as it was only ever directed at her nastily, she avoided the owner, who thankfully appeared to do the same.

But now, now she knew he even smelled like her hillbilly, it was too much and the grief was crushing, so she opted to ignore it. Ignore it all. Numb it down.

So she lay there, not moving until her body gave into its exhaustion.

Until she was being shaken awake from her nightmare by a worried looking Maggie. Looking past her, she noticed it was now dark and she shuddered at the now fleeting memories of the nightmare she had been stuck in. She shook the hand off her arm, rolled up in her blanket and forced her eyes shut. After a few moments, she heard Maggie sigh, gently stroke her head once and leave her cell.

It was just starting to get light when Wren slipped out of the cell block. Someone she didn’t know was on guard duty but knowing who she was and that she normally went out at this time, opened the gate and let her limp out.

It didn’t take her long to find it. All buildings had them. Maintenance rooms, crawl spaces, empty places that no one ever seemed to know about. Ductwork and spaces between floors and walls, all the things Wren had learnt long before she crossed paths with Merle. It took a few days, but she finally had her new bolt hole, her new nest set up. 

It had been harder than before to get away with it. It seemed like suddenly nearly everyone went from ignoring her or avoiding her, to staring or smiling to her, or offering her extra food when she had barely been able to eat before. Others went the other way and Wren got glaring and some even making a point of turning away as she walked passed. Eyes were constantly on her and when the story of the attack became common knowledge, it felt as though she was constantly under surveillance. The change was overwhelming and Wren now found herself starting to have panic attacks and disappearing off into the fields or hiding out in the darkened tombs.

A few days after the attack, Rick and Daryl had come down to her at the fence and asked if they could have a word. Wren eyed them warily. Was this it, was she going to be booted for causing problems? She did a quick inventory and knew she could hide out in her bolt hole for ages. It wasn’t great but better than being out there alone and injured and no one would know.

But what Rick said stunned her.

“We are going have a group meeting on Johns for what he did. Now you don’t have to come, it's entirely your choice, but you do get to have a say in his punishment. Did you want to come, or did you want to wait and let us know what you think after?”

Wren cocked her head to the side and stared at the two men. They actually seemed to mean that.

She nodded decisively and Rick leant down a bit to get a good look at her on her level.

“Just checkin Wren, that's you sayin you wanna come? It may not be pretty, hell, it's not going to be pretty but I want you to know you have mine and the entire council's support here, okay?”

Her eyes flicked to Daryl and to her mild surprise, he nodded his agreement with Rick's statement.

Wren pursed her lips, clasped her hands together to hide their shaking and firmly nodded her head.

The next day, the entire group was gathered in the main courtyard, most of the Council standing on a platform so that everyone could see them. 

Rick looked out over the group.

“Now most of you know why we’re here. A few days ago, one of our community was attacked in the showers by another member. This here is a meeting to quell some of the rumours that have been flying around and to lay punishment on the perpetrator.”

Whispers ran through the group, with some of Johns group standing off to one side, looking furious and murmuring angrily.

A few of the younger men dragged Johns out and dropped him onto the floor by the platform and gasps were loud at the battered sight of the man.

His face was black from cheekbones down and swollen to twice his normal size. His jaw sat strangely and one corner of his mouth sagged and gaps where teeth were missing could be seen. He also remained seated, his knees drawing close to his body at all times, shifting as though he was in a lot of pain.

One by one, everyone’s attention turned to the tiny child-looking woman who had apparently done such destruction on a man who would have been maybe 6ft and at least 160 pounds.

She stood, funnily enough, by the side of the person most thought of as against the quiet damaged woman. She stared straight at Rick and Hershel and never wavered, but everyone gathered could see her completely bloodshot eyes and the almost perfect handprint bruise that wrapped around her pale neck, marred only by the tail end of her scar.

“This world is now a much darker place, we all know this, but when that darkness comes from one of our own, we will stand no chance. This is supposed to be a place of safety, from the walkers and those that would take what we have. And that safety has been broken. The council have decided that those that break this safety, have no right to be here. So Johns is banished.”

Johns group roared their anger and shock and Wren flinched, trying to be strong, and found herself drawing closer to Daryl, the scent of him pulling her in despite her wishes.

“We all know she’s fucked in the head, how do we know she didn’t just attack him?” One woman screamed angrily, pointing at Wren and nearly spitting in her fury.

Rick turned to the angry group and looked each and everyone of them in the eye.

“You mean, apart from the fact that the evidence speaks for itself, apart from the fact that we have witnesses who saw and alerted us and APART from the fact that we witnessed some of it ourselves? Apart from that you mean?” The woman, now unsure and feeling she was on very unsteady ground, hesitantly nodded as it seemed that was what Rick was looking at her for.

“Why do we think that, Johns?” Rick turned to the now sobbing man on floor. SIlence broken only by the gut wrenching sobbing echoed around the group. “Johns?” Rick repeated louder and Daryl stepped forward.  
“Man better answer the question.” He snapped and Johns shuddered and nodded his head. “Didn’t hear you scumbag!” Daryl took another step.

Muffled through a broken and swollen jaw, Johns screamed out his answer.

“I did it, I did it, god forgive me I did it. Please don’t throw me out! I beg you, I won’t last an hour!!” He turned to the group, but they were now backing away in horror and disgust, several parents yanking their children behind them. In total fear, he turned to the Council begging to stay, blood starting to drip from his mouth as he tried to talk. Seeing no quarter there, he turned to Wren and leant towards her entreatingly.  
“I’m sorry, I really am, please! You’re the only one!” 

Wren took a step away from the reaching hand, even though he was several metres away. She felt Daryl’s back bump into her shoulder as he stepped protectively in front of her and Carol take her hand.

“Don’t be afraid to do what you need to. He chose his own path.” Carol whispered encouragingly. 

Wren looked up at Rick and Hershel and blinked in response to the Doctor’s supportive smile.

Leaning forward, she rested her head on Daryl’s back and breathed in that almost, not quite familiar scent and took a minute to decide. A side eye glance showed her that while the confession had shocked Johns group, they still were suspicious and angry and Wren didn’t want any more hate on her.

She tugged Daryl down and whispered in his ear. He reared back with a curse and glared at her.

“What the fuck bitch!”  
“DARYL!” Carol yelped in shock, pulling Wren away from the angry redneck. But Wren kept her eyes on Daryl and just stared at him with the same ‘I fucking dare you’ look he had very first seen on her face.

He spun around and with furious steps, pounded over to the prone sobbing man and hauled him up by his collar and yelled in his face.

“This is your luckiest day you diseased mother fucker!” and threw the man back down onto the concrete before jumping up on the platform and dragging the council together. Glenn was the first to nod in agreement, his face grim, Sasha shook her head and argued but in the end, a hand on her shoulder from Hershel and she sighed and nodded but clearly unhappy with the decision.

Rick turned and faced the group 

“Wren asked and the Council have agreed, that if his group will take him back and make him their responsibility, he can stay.” He turned to the group in question, and saw the request as it sunk in and he watched as he dropped his next bombshell.  
“He will be your total responsibility. You will be moved to Cell Block F, it has its own sealed courtyard and a single access to the rest of the Prison. He is not allowed out of that block. Any infractions from him, and the entire group takes the hit.”

The entire gathering watched as Johns group instantly went from raging and arguing, to staring in fear at the man and the Council.

One of the men, who had been the most vocal in his support of Johns, stepped forward and yelled up at Rick.

“That ain’t fair! Why do we get punished if someone else fucks up?”

Rick stared the man down. “You all seemed so sure of his innocence, that he couldn't have done this, so what’s the problem?” He dared them. 

Daryl stepped up to the man and stood chest to chest with him.

“Yeah, thats’ right. Ya’ll think he’s so great, then you take him back. Only he’s all on you. He fucks up even once, he’s dead and you’re all gone. Your choice man.”

The group shuffled and shifted until finally, obviously reluctantly, one of the women dragging a man behind her, picked Johns up and the Group left, all but two, a young couple who approached Rick.

Wren was done. The entire gathering dispersed, all whispering and talking about it all and Wren just felt empty. Carol tugged on her hand and Wren realised that she was still attached to the older woman. Docility following Carol, the older woman led her to her cell, and urged her to sleep, telling her she needed the rest.

Not an hour later, she was woken by her own screams and lay there curled up in a ball. A noise at the doorway of her cell caused her to glance up and see a large muscular man standing there looking very unsure.

“You okay Wren?” He asked softly and Wren remembered his name was Tyreese, one of the very, very few men who didn’t make her hand itch for her knife. Forcing a smile she nodded and after a moment of clearly not believing her, he nodded back and edged away.

As soon as he was gone, she silently crept from her cell and disappeared to her nest.


	12. Chapter 12

Life at the Prison settled into its rhythm, months passed and their community slowly grew, babies appearing as people coupled up, and more people were slowly accepted into the community. There were few disputes here and there, easily and quickly settled by the council. 

It took longer for people to realise Wren had ‘moved out’ than she thought it would, although she suspected Daryl knew after only a few days, but he kept silent on it so she wasn’t completely sure.   
When finally pressed on her new quarters, Wren just stared blankly. She didn’t speak at all now. If she couldn’t answer with nods or hand gestures, she didn’t respond. Daryl came to her rescue and told them all that where Wren slept was her own damn business and didn’t they have work to go off and do?

Wren and Daryl had an odd relationship. After the tumultuous start to Wren’s life at the prison, she found that she only really interacted with a few of the group, although it seemed like everyone knew who Wren was. She wouldn't say Daryl and her were close, but it seemed to be more than just merely tolerating each other. They didn’t share stories or become best buddies, but she would find that they seemed to end up sitting by each other at meals, or group meetings, things like that. 

Then one day, out of the blue he asked her if she wanted to go hunting with him.

She eyed him warily, trying to figure out his motive and he rolled his eyes.   
“Look, I know what’s like being the outsider, hell, I still am on most counts. But as Carol once told me, don’t pull away, ya earned your place. Well, same thing goes for you.” He nodded at the silent woman.  
Wren shook her head and snorted. She pointed at Daryl, then pretended an angry face with clawed hands then pointed at herself.  
Daryl looked at the ground and chewed on his thumb before glancing up at her through lanky dark locks of hair.  
“Nah, I don’t hate cha girlie.”

Wren blinked at the nickname. It had been so long since she heard that and it twinged her heart hard. Daryl frowned at the sudden sadness that crossed her face.

“What is it Wren?” He asked quietly, but she shook her head, both to say it’s nothing and to shake away the thoughts. Instead, she patted her crossbow and motioned for Daryl to lead the way.

Once out there, he told her that he knew it had been her leaving the rabbits, even though everyone had continually attributed it to Daryl and he wanted to see what her hunting and tracking skills were up to.

They came back with a string each of squirrels and a 4 pointer deer and an earned respect for Wren’s hunting from Daryl. 

There were a few things she did that kept tweaking at Daryl’s mind, but never for long as his attention was often called away for BMOC stuff.

After that, they made regular trips out, whenever Daryl needed space or when he could see Wren needed it herself.

They were always coming back with some kind of fresh meat. While Wren was still quite the outsider, her apparent acceptance by the BMOC and other leaders, softened the isolation somewhat and she found herself being welcomed that little bit more. Enough so that the children started to come and visit again. 

It also started to be that Wren and Daryl would seek each other out each day just to check in and quietly go about their business together. Daryl was quite a popular figure around the prison now, something he never seemed comfortable with. Wren and Carol shared a smile ( only a small one-sided from Wren of course) when one of the older teen boys gushed his hero worship on Daryl and Daryl licked his fingers clean before shaking the kids hand. When Daryl saw the humour of the two women, he flipped them off and stormed away, a ringing laugh from Carol following him.

It wasn’t just the hero worship from the males, many of the women and other members found themselves eyeing up the rough redneck. In this new world, the draw of the ‘Alpha’ was even stronger and many women and men found themselves drawn to it. When Daryl and Wren’s friendship became more obvious, it certainly didn’t make Wren any more welcome in the eyes of the lusting lot. 

Though the community quickly learnt that disparaging any of the women, especially Wren in Daryl’s hearing wasn’t a smart thing to do when one brave lass did just that. Daryl had come over to chat to Carol, Wren and Sasha and was straddling the bench seat, idly picking at Carol and Wren’s plates. A young woman strode up confidently and unsubtly thrust herself between Daryl and Wren, her breasts brushing Daryl’s face, to place a plate of food in front of him. Leaning in, her impressive rack almost pressed up to Daryl’s very nose, she slid her arm across his shoulders and leant down to whisper in his ear.

A second later, she was on her butt, staring up at the furious redneck.

“Get your skank ass the fuck out of ‘ere! And iffn I eva hear you saying shit like that about….anyone, I’ll kick ya ass, girl or no!” The girl scrambled to her feet, her face bright red and rushed into the cell blocks. But both Carol and Wren had caught the glance towards Wren at the pause and both knew it had been about her. Wren simply shook her head and left to head to the fence. Seems like she could never win. After that, Wren found that Daryl seemed to be hanging around a lot more, seemingly finding that his chores were within eyesight of her or just checking up on her more regularly. She thought that it would be uncomfortable, that male attention, but it was soon clear that it was more a protective brother vibe and Wren found herself relaxing more and more. It had such a familiar feel to it, that she found herself accepting it easily.

 

Daryl and Hershel were the only men who were able to casually touch Wren without warning. Even with Rick, who Wren had the utmost respect for, she still shied a tiny bit if he reached out to get her attention or clap a hand on her shoulder. Anyone else? Nah, not a safe idea any more and everyone knew it.   
The day that Wren returned the one armed side hug from Daryl with a small half smile on her face, both Carol and Maggie both caught it , looked at each other and smiled in relief and delight. Maybe just maybe those two would be okay. 

 

Then Michonne arrived.

 

Wren was helping Carol with the water barrels when Rick suddenly ran passed them. Looking up, they all saw a woman standing by the fence, holding a shopping basket, surrounded by Walkers who apparently weren’t paying her any attention. By the time Rick got to her, she HAD caught their attention and all hell broke loose.

It didn’t take long until they got everything under control and the tall woman inside the fence and Wren just stood and watched as they carried her up to the Prison. The rabid snarling at the fence caught her attention and without even a sigh, she simply got to work on the ever enlarging herd. 

It was way past dark by the time Wren finished for the night and made it to her nest. Everyone had long since cleaned up and retired for the night. The Prison was quiet with only the sentries on watch, so clambering up to her nest was thankfully easy. She was too exhausted to have to sneak. The Walkers at the fence had swelled to a large herd and while she had had assistance for part of the afternoon, as soon as it started to get dark, everyone slowly trickled away, often without a word to the mute woman until finally leaving her on her own in the dark. 

She had missed dinner, not uncommon at all with the large communal meals that were now the norm, and now that she no longer used the showers, all she wanted to do was wash up in a small bowl and a rough face washer from her water stash and curl up in her nest. 

Thankfully now, hidden away in her little nest, no one was disturbed by her nightly terrors, but they were taking their toll on her. Dark circles were now a permanent feature and her missing meals certainly wasn’t helping her body weight, so her cheekbones were becoming more prominent. The constant physical work she did everyday had built up her muscles and cut away the softness she used to have and that along with isolation and her now baggy clothes that she wore in layers, hid the fact that she was getting thin. She looked tiredly at her body as she washed down and gave a rueful chuckle. Pre-Apocalypse Artemis would have killed for this body. But it was hard to care much about anything nowadays. Wren wondered if she really was as badly damaged as everyone said. But she reminded herself that she still had a safe place and friends who were maybe becoming family, everything else could bugger off.

With that self bolstering speech, she climbed into her nest and promptly fell asleep.

So tired after the long night of hard labour and several night terrors, she didn’t emerge until well after lunchtime. It took a moment but then she was surprised to see the place in an uproar. She eventually got one of the kids to fill her in.

Maggie and Glenn had been taken. The new lady with the cool sword knew where and so Rick and Daryl and others had gone to get ‘em back. 

Wren suddenly shivered as though walker fingers just dragged down her spine. 

Taking off to the fenceline, she used the excuse of clearing walkers to keep an eye on the road. Other teams were outside the fences digging in new spike poles so Wren cut her arm to get the blood dripping and getting the walkers attentions, drew as many of them away as she could. The faster the spike poles went up, the safer the entire place would be. Other teams were reinforcing the mesh fences with brick walls and steel plates - thank goodness several of the welcomed groups had had an engineer and builders. By the time they finished, this place would be practically impenetrable.

But all Wren could focus on was that it was dark and they weren’t back. Carol and Sasha came down at one point, the latter with a plate a food. Wren blinked in surprise. This wasn’t the first time someone had brought food down to Wren, but it hadn’t been for a long while and Wren just stared at the two women until Sasha shivered, thrust the plate and Carol and took off back up.  
“Sweetie, you should come up, you have done enough and standing here isn’t gonna make them get back any faster.” Wren merely took the plate of food, sitting down where she had been standing and ignoring the snarling dead only a few feet away, quickly shoveled her food in. All the while, Carol looked down in shock. Sure she had been seeing Wren most days, but when had she gotten so thin? She was only a small woman at the best of times, often mistaken for a child by newcomers - at least until they saw her working the fences or bringing in hunts - but Carol was suddenly struck by the hollows and outlines she now saw in the bright moonlight. Carol felt a sense of shame and worry, and guilt. Wren was a huge help to the entire community, she worked hard without complaint, pulled more than double her weight in fence and guard duty, she brought in a fair amount of their consumable meat, yet was never really part of the Community. Carol knew what people said about Wren. She knew that the damage she had inflicted on Johns was permanent. Hershel had been tending the man and had quietly told Carol the man would never be right again. She had also been the one that had search Wren’s bags when she first arrived and had found a necklace buried deep in a secret inside pocket that Carol had never had the courage to ask about or tell anyone else about. But she had a very good idea what it was and had often wondered at the beginning if that was from the time Wren had been hurt.

A plate being gently thrust back into her hands brought her attention back and she watched as Wren smiled her tiny half smile as thanks and turned back to the fence, her arm already swinging and dispatching another snarling monster.

Wren had basically dropped from exhaustion by the time the car pulled up to the gates the next day. She had remained at the fence the entire night and her body, undernourished and exhausted, was struggling. Wren couldn’t even lift her blade anymore and had resorted to simply laying in the grass, waiting for the returning group.

The first out was Rick and Michonne, who both then helped Maggie and Glenn out and the group of concerned members hustled the injured couple away. Wren stumbled up to the car and looked in, already knowing Daryl wasn’t there. It felt as though a stone had replaced her heart, a heart that she hadn’t realised had been slowly warming up. Her breath caught in her throat and she could feel herself trying to gasp.

She didn’t even realise that Rick had placed his hand on her shoulder until he turned her to him.

“He isn’t dead Wren, he found his brother and as his brother wasn’t exactly welcome here, well, he went off with him.” Wren just stared blankly at Rick, ignoring the gasp from Carol behind her. She could feel the tear run down her left cheek, but made no move to wipe it away. But her breath returned with a startling inhale. She hadn’t even known Daryl had a brother, not surprising she supposed, not like they shared anything or were apparently really friends at all.

With a shrug to dislodge Rick’s caring hand, she made her way through the crowd, wanting nothing more than to hide away. A hand clawed her arm and Wren had her knife pressed to it before the person could even blink, but it didn’t stop the venomous hiss.  
“Seems like you weren’t a good enough fuck to keep a man like Daryl after all. What NOT a surprise!” A cruel but light chuckle danced between them. Wren didn’t even know who the woman even was. With a flick of her knife, the woman squealed and let go clutching her bleeding arm and leaving behind a nice looking mark Wren knew would bruise like she had been hit by a mack truck. 

Ten minutes later, Wren was tucked away in her nest and for the first time, dug into her not-so-tiny stash of drugs she had picked up on a run, picked out some of the sleeping tablets and dry swallowed.

She just needed the silence and numbness of oblivion for just a little while. She had started to let herself trust again, just a bit, completely unknowingly and the realisation that she found herself caring for the quiet redneck came as a shock. Hadn’t she had enough of grief and loss? So she took the pills, restricting herself to only three and welcomed the bliss of unknowing sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sqquuueeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

Wren slept for over 2 days. The combination of neglect and the pills hit harder than she had expected and she barely even moved.

When she did finally awake, every single part of her body hurt. Her lips cracked at her yawn and she immediately grabbed a bottle of water and skulled it before gritting her teeth and climbing down from her nest in the roof of her bolthole. Some more water and some venison jerky on the way to relieving herself and she started to feel a little more like herself.

Until she remembered that Daryl had gone. With only Maggie, Carol and Hershel being the closest thing she called friends, she felt the crushing weight of her life. Had she really worked so hard to be this miserable? Maggie’s kid was due soon and Carol was slowly being drawn more and more into the running of the prison community, what did Wren even have here. Food and a safe place? Was that all her life was now?

And she wasn’t stupid. She knew that the absence of Daryl would mean that what little positive regard she had would soon be gone. She would be that character you read about in books. The invisible one that nobody saw, but would notice only when shit didn’t get done when they were gone.

Maybe it was time. Not like she collected her stash of pills for her health after all.

It wasn’t until she got to the crosswalk that she noticed that difference.

Tension was in the air, thick and nasty as was the smell of rotting walkers. Instead of there being the usual amount of people milling around doing chores or hanging out, the courtyard was empty, the main inner gates locked and… oh my god the field was filled with Walkers!!

Wren rushed down to the main compound and stared in horror. The main gates were smashed open, walkers were everywhere and there was a decided hush over the whole prison.

Wren heard voices coming from the main cellblock and headed over to see what the hell had happened. She could hear Rick and Hershel going at it and occasionally one or another of the women would interject. She stood at the corner and listened in.

Apparently the people that took Glenn and Maggie had attacked the prison, Wren couldn’t hear why, but guessed it was for the same reason all the groups attacked each other, get their shit and lower the competition. 

Her heart stuttered. 

A new voice had spoken up. 

Harsh, southern, mocking and oh my god so familiar. Was Wren still sleeping? Was it another cruel taunt by Fate or the Universe or some vindictive power?   
“... I’m sure he’s got scouts on every road outta this place by now.”  
The voice following that caused Wren to slip to her knees, shaking.  
“We ain’t scared of that prick.” Gravely, and pissed and all Daryl. He was back? He hadn’t left? She crossed her arms over her stomach and hugged herself as she curled over and rested her forehead to her knees.

Had she gone mad?? Had her damaged mind finally cracked? She huddled there, soaking in the voice, ignoring the fact that she may have completely broken but soaking up the only real hope she had felt in ages.

It was Hershal yelling at Rick that shook Wren out of her shock. But all she could hear was the mocking voice echoing in her head, and on hands and knees she crept forward into the cell block. Rick and Hershel were toe to toe, Glenn and Maggie were pacing and the new one Michonne? was wiping down that blade that Wren had lusted after the second she saw it. Movement up and she bit her lip as tears sprung to her eyes as Daryl paced the upper walkway - he was really truly here -, but that voice, where was that voice?

Rick stormed off and at the gate to the common room, stopped to snarl at someone to move.

“Sir yes Sir” came the highly mocking, amused laugh and Wren found herself on her feet sprinting towards the far side of the cell block. Rick stepped around the figure and there was no force on the planet that could have stopped the scream that burst from Wren’s lips.

“HILLBILL!!!!!!!” 

Every single person jumped a mile, Michonne swung her blade and just missing Wren by inches - thank god she was tiny- Hershel stumbled and Rick spun around, his gun already in his hand and Daryl looked ready to leap the damn railing.

But all Wren saw was her HillBill, her Merle.

“Fuck!! Birdie???” Before anyone could even have a hope of grabbing the tiny woman, she leapt and threw herself bodily at Merle. His arms automatically wrapped around her shaking form.   
“Birdie?? Wrennie?? That really you girlie??” He tried to pull her back to look at her better, but she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and locked her ankles behind his back and burst into loud, soul shaking sobs.

“Birdie! Sugar, calm the hell down girlie, ya gonna do yourself a damage, stupid kid!” He softly said, as he lowered himself down onto one of the steel tables in the common room.

Wren’s scream brought people running from all over, worried that something bad was happening again, and all they saw was the weird little woman stuck closer than a barnacle to Daryl’s brother.

Some wandered off, not caring about the damaged woman, but many stayed to watch.  
Carol forced her way through the crowds and grasped Maggie’s hand.  
“What on earth?” She whispered in shock. Maggie just shrugged, her heart still racing from Wren’s scream.  
“Carol, she spoke!!” Carol blinked in shock at Maggie “She screamed out something and the next thing we knew, she was jumping him like a tick on a dog!”

Wren buried her face in Merle’s neck and sobbed all her fears, her terror, her hate, everything into the filthy once white singlet, all the while inhaling the finally familiar scent she had been teased with for so long.

Merle, giving up trying to pry the distraught woman off him, simply wrapped his arms around her, keeping his blade carefully away and looked at the group in front of him, eyes narrowing.

But all he got was different versions of shock and worry. Daryl came forward and gently placed a hand on Wren’s back and when Wren gripped Merle tighter, Merle had the sudden urge to punch his baby brother.

Quietly, Daryl slid onto the seat by Merle’s feet and rubbed Wren’s back.

“Wren, girlie, he’s right, you’re gonna make yourself sick carryin’ on so.”   
Wren just clung even harder - if it was even possible - and sobbed louder. Merle noticed that the crowd were all whispering and carrying on as though they ain’t never seen no woman lose her shit before.  
“Ain’t you fuckers got somewhere else to be?” He snarled, turning his body to block Wren from their gossipy eyes and people suddenly filtered out, with the help of the Council, until it was just Maggie, Carol, Hershel, Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, Rick and Merle and his watering pot. Carol took the other side of Merle and started rubbing Wren’s arm. Slowly the sobs slowed and became hiccups, but the girl’s grip didn’t loosen an inch.  
Merle was murmuring into Wren’s hair, just like he used to so long ago when she had her nightmares and his one good hand was smoothing down Wren’s back, pushing his baby brother's hand away.

Suddenly Glenn snapped. After what happened to Maggie, to see Wren in that man’s arms… he snatched Wren’s left arm and yanked her away hard, making her lose her grip and pulled her hard, trying to separate the two.

Before Merle or Daryl could even stand, Glenn was on the floor, Wren’s knife at his throat, her teeth bared in a feral snarl, her knee pressed hard against his sternum. Everyone froze. Well except for Merle, who threw his head back and laughed.

“Hey Chinaman, didn’t see that coming huh?”

Wren blinked as though suddenly coming back to herself and looked down at the furious yet scared man under her. Slowly, she removed her knife and her knee and rose to her feet, before holding her hand out to Glenn as an obvious gesture of peace. Wren didn’t touch anyone, yet in the space of mere minutes, she had body slammed-hugged one man and offered her hand to another. Glenn, still pissed, knocked Wren’s hand away, ignoring Maggie’s whispered admonishment and with a look of hatred to Merle, stormed off. 

Wren blinked, as though in a daze and just stood there, her head cocked as though listening to something only she could hear. Rick looked at Hershel with a frown and a question in his eyes but Hershel shrugged in reply.

Suddenly she spun and locked eyes with Merle.

“HillBill!” She whispered, her hand rising up to caress his face. He grinned down at her, fully aware of his audience and trying hard to figure out where this was going to go.  
He certainly wasn’t expecting the vicious slap to the face though.  
Wren glared at him, holding her stinging hand and he looked at her in shock, Daryl beside him tensing to grab Merle before he could retaliate.  
“Korean, asshole.” She rasped at him, before her face fell and tears gathered. Merle felt his own heart, cold and hard, crumble that little bit and he held his arms out and she didn’t waste a second. 

It was at Carol’s urging that Merle be allowed out into the sunny courtyard carrying the now sleeping Wren. Once out in the natural light, Merle’s heart sank. This was not the gal who rescued him off that roof top, or had nursed him to health. It wasn’t even the girlie who he thought he had lost over the bridge all that long ago.

Her hair had grown back of course, but it was simply knots and dreads tied together. Her face looked like she had aged a decade in the many months he had been gone - was it almost a year now? Instead of the 24/25 he knew her to be, she looked closer to 40.  
Shadows like black eyes decorated her face, and her face was pinched and bony. As he cradled her in the sun, he could feel the tiny birdlike body. She had been short when they met, but like many women before the dead rose, had carried more than a few extra pounds here and there. Merle figured she would be lucky to even Weigh a few pounds now - all he could feel was hard muscle and bone.  
Even the layers of clothes couldn’t hide the fact she was wasting away.

In the light of day, she definitely looked like the young child she was often thought of being.

He gently tipped her head up and studied the scar on her throat. By now, it should have been a faded pink if it had any colour at all, yet it was still fiery red, almost like it was only just healed. Slipping his hand up her shirts and ignoring the cursing and orders to cut it out, he ran his hand over her back and felt the scarring there. Without looking at it, he figured it was looking a lot better than her throat.

What the hell had happened to his Birdie?

He had been aware of the group standing around him, presumably to make sure the evil man didn’t hurt the little girl and he looked up.

“What the fuck have you done to Art?” He snarled. Wren shifted at the fury in his voice, her forehead wrinkling as she started to come out of her sleep, but quickly quieted down with a sigh when Merle gently rocked her and hummed into her hair.

“I think more the question is - Who’s Art and how do you know Wren?” Rick asked angrily concerned. “You seem a little too … familiar with someone who’s been here for a fair while?”

Merle felt his own unstable temper rise.

“You betta not be suggessin anythin there Officer Friendly. I may be going to Hell but it ain’t for hurting no woman!” 

Daryl stood by his brother and nodded at Rick.   
“Merle don’t do that shit Rick.” But he too was interested. It certainly explained so much as pieces were clicking into place all over.

Wren whimpered and twitched, settling only when Merle pulled her close and sighing “My HillBill.”

Carol stepped up, her mothering instincts roaring.

“There! Wren hasn’t spoken a single word in months. Before that, barely anything. You arrive and suddenly she’s calling your name and talking again?”

Merle studied the group surrounding him - aggressively he thought - and sighed. Even his baby brother was eyeing him up.

 

But something caught his attention.

“Wren? She calls herself Wren? My My ain’t that a kick in the ass.” He chuckled.  
“When we met, her name was Art, short for some arty farty greek god, fucked if I remember which one.”  
“Artemis?” Hershel asked but Merle just shrugged.  
“Is that the warrior chick? Then I reckon so.”  
He adjusted Wren gently, settling her so that her hip bone wasn’t pressing into his belt buckle. No more marks for his wren.

“Anyway, she was the one who got me off that roof you fuckers all left me on - you know the one.” He sneered at them all, feeling the rage building again, but crushed it down when Wren groaned, maybe sensing the change in mood.

“She let me in one of her ‘nests’ as she called them and I got real sick. And this chubby, brown little nothing spent weeks getting me better for no other reason than “it was the right thing to do.”” Everyone could hear the quote in his voice. He continued to gently stroke down Wren’s back. “God that girl never shut the fuck up! Even threatened to throw her off a damn building to shut her up once.” He laughed at the memory but sobered quickly when he got glares instead.  
“So I called her Wren - cause she was a drab, ugly little bird that chattered it's damn fool head off 24/7.” 

Wren’s hand slid up Merle’s chest and grasped his singlet and relaxed again. 

He waited until she was still before continuing.  
“We headed out of ‘Lanta and bushed it for a while - she was as dumb as a bucket of mud but it finally sunk in and we did alright.”

Merle tensed and looked away.

“The rest ain’t my story. Up to Wren iffn she wants to share and if she ain’t yet, neither am I. But some bad shit happened and a while after that, we got separated. Thought she was dead.”

He glared up at the frustrated and angry faces.

“I gotta few questions for you lot. Are you lot really worried about the girlie, or are you more worried about the big bad man?” He didn’t even wait for an answer but spoke straight over their furious responses. “Cause I’ve been here all of 10 mins and I can already tell this gal has all but given up. You sayin’ she’s been here months? She come like this or is this her gettin better? She ain’t nothin but goddamn skin and bone, She’s only a baby but she looks as old as my granny and when was the last time this girl had a good wash? I’ve seen fuckin’ cleaner walkers!”

Carol’s eyes filled with tears. She had only just noticed that Wren wasn’t doing good and should have done more. The others just glared at Merle, but Daryl leaned forward and looked closer. Then swore as he noticed what Merle had said. She had recently taken to refusing to go hunting with him and he figured it was that she just had other stuff to do. Now maybe it was as Merle said, she was giving up.

Merle stood and glanced at the cell blocks.

“Which one’s hers? From the looks she ain’t been sleepin so I wanna get her settled while I can.” He looked expectantly at the group and this time no one would meet his eyes.

“She’s got a room, right? All these walking bags of uselessness around here all seem to have their own places, so where’s Wren’s?” 

Rick looked Merle straight. 

“We don’t know. She moved outta her’s after … an incident and she has never told or shown anyone where she bunks down.”

Merle felt his entire skin twitch and Daryl stepped forward, recognising his brother's triggers.  
“Brother, don’t. You’ll wake Wren and worry her and you said she needs her shuteye.” Merle swore long and nastily under his breath.

“This shit ain’t over, ya hear me?” He snarled at the gathered group. “Now find someplace for the girlie before we ALL have problems we don’t want.”


	14. Chapter 14

Wren felt warm and safe and comfortable. She vaguely remembered a night terror starting, but something had chased it away, like smoke on wind and she had had the best sleep she had had in…… ohgod, she couldn't remember.

She snuggled down and drew in a big breath and yawned. Then froze. Breathed in deep again. Ohgod! It wasn’t a dream? She smushed her face into the hard surface and simply breathed until a rumbling chuckle bumped her nose and caused her to look up. Into blue eyes. Blue eyes she hadn’t seen in forever, with the crinkles in the corners and the smirk she knew better than she knew her own face.  
Raising her fingers, she ran them all over the face in front of her, exploring every dip and crest until the eyebrows creased and the smirk went away.  
“Birdie, why ya cryin ya stupid thin’?” Wren blinked and realised that her face was indeed wet as was the chest underneath her head.

“You real?” She asked, her voice crackly and broken after so long of no use.

“I’mmas real as they get, Sugar Tits.” Merle bragged, puffing out his chest and he got what he was aiming for. Wren grinned her tiny half smile and a quiet giggle escaped her lips. She looked around and noticed that they were in Carol’s room. She looked at Merle with a confused face. At once,Merle went from bragging joker to furious redneck.

“They ain’t been treatin you right, have they birdie?” Wren just blinked at him, her face falling into its passive, I-don’t-know’-what-you-mean-and-if-I-do-I-ain’t-saying look and Merle swore at her.  
“Fuck that Wren. you can’t pull that shit with me. Those idiots might fall for it, but you and I know better, don’t we.”

Wren shrugged and Merle saw the look of loss and being lost and decided to do a bit of digging around before he pressed her further. She was a cracked as a dropped vase and one false move and Merle could see her simply falling apart, never to be fixed. How on earth these so called ‘good guys’ would do this or let someone else do this…

So it was with some surprise that Wren was the one to drag Merle up and out of Carol’s room and into the main areas. She wanted to show him everything, but when they wouldn’t open the gate to let her and Merle out to the courtyard, Wren got confused and then pissed.

She stamped her foot and glared at the guard, one of the younger men who had arrived after the Shower incident and had heard the gossipy version of what happened. He visibly swallowed and stepped away from the gate and it’s tiny furious demander.

“He ain’t allowed out. He’s one of those that attacked us.” He stammered.

Wren turned to look at Merle curiously, her head cocked, the question clear on her face.  
Merle shrugged - not like he could deny it.  
“Survival Wren, you do what you gotta.” Wren thought about it for a second then shrugged. It was too much, she hadn’t done too much deep thinking in a long while and she just wanted out out out.  
She glared at the young man and pulled her knife.  
“Rick, now,” She rasped and the look of complete shock on the boy’s face was enough to prove to Merle that they hadn't been lying about her silence.  
A few minutes later, both Rick and Daryl arrived and Wren pointed angrily at the locked gate.  
“Open. Now.” She rasped again and Rick blinked in astonishment.  
“You talking now Wren?” He asked with a smile and she just shrugged. “Look Wren, Merle can’t just wander about, he’s done some things…”   
Wren put her fingers in her ears and to everyone’s surprise, started chanting   
“La la la laaa!”

When she opened her eyes and saw the look of consternation on both Rick and Daryl’s face, she laughed. Out loud and both men jolted. Merle wondered just how damaged his Wren had been and was now.

Daryl was talking to Rick and assuring him that he would keep an eye on him like he needed some kinda damn babysitter, but hell, if it got him out of this place, he’d take what he could get.

Finally they were out and headed for the Cook house and Merle could feel his stomach rumbling. He hadn’t been able to let go of sleeping Wren - he told himself it was because she would have been woken up - and was dying for some grub. But Wren glanced at the cookhouse then walked straight past and was heading to the fenceline.  
“Birdie? You ain’t gettin anythin’ to eat, baby girl?” Merle called out and watched as Wren twitched as though she just got hit. Slowly, with obvious reluctance, she turned and had that blank look on her face that Merle already hated. Daryl stepped up beside him and looked at the cookhouse then Wren.  
After a few moments, Wren sighed and looking like she caved in on herself a tiny bit, came to Merle’s side and nudged him and Daryl to the bench. Behind the bench three of the communities women were busy making food and cleaning up and generally being chatty cathy’s with each other.  
Daryl grabbed one of the plates from the pile and motioned for one of the bits of meat on the grill.  
As soon as the women noticed Daryl was there, the fluttering and flirting began and all three women busted a nut trying to serve Daryl. One even went so far as to say that she had been saving him a special bit just for him. Merle’s snort of amusement got their attention and suddenly the area got a little cooler. Obviously word spread fast, but as Merle was Daryl’s brother - as one woman actually asked, trying to be flirty with Daryl - they were polite if nothing else. Merle handed his plate over and got the same sort of serving, meat, veg and gravy and even a biscuit. Stepping over to the table with Daryl to wait for Wren, Merle glanced back to check on Wren, even as he crammed the gravy soaked bread in his mouth.

Wren was clearly visible as she laid her plate on the bench and Merle swore he heard her sigh. He definitely saw her bite her lip and the beginnings of a flush start on her pale cheeks as her eyes seemed to flick to him then back to the front.

Nothing. Wren knocked her knuckles on the bench to get their attention and one woman looked over, saw Wren and turned back to whisper to the other two ladies. All three laughed and Merle definitely saw Wren’s face redden more.

Just as Merle was about to step over, one of the women sighed this massive, oh-god-must-I sigh, snatched up Wren’s plate, dumped a spoonful of porridge on it from a deep saucepan at the back of the bench and slid it towards Wren. Without a word, smile or anything, she turned back to the other two women and continued their chatting as they puttered around. Wren looked at the plate and turned away, not even touching it as she strode quickly off around the corner.

Merle, gritted his teeth and glanced at his brother.  
“What the fuck was that, man?” Merle’s fists were clenching around his fork and plate as he glared at his brother.  
Daryl wasn’t even there. He had snatched a kid running past, yanked him up and told him to get Rick and be fucking quick about it.   
Daryl stepped over to the cookhouse bench and threw his full plate of food at the women, who all squealed and flinched as the hot food splattered everywhere.  
“You fuckin dried up old cunts! What makes you any better than anyone else here?” One of the women suddenly realised what had happened and the blood drained from her face and she literally whimpered. Merle watched as his brother went to town on those fuckedup bitches until Rick and several others appeared and forced Daryl back from where he was leaning over the counter, screaming at the cowering women.

Rick finally managed to get Daryl to talk to him.

“Those fuckin bitches in there, they been doin Wren wrong Rick. Dunno how long, but I’mma guessin ages from how she was.”  
Rick shook his friend by the shoulders.  
“Daryl! What happened?”  
Merle noticed that the women were sliding out of the cookhouse and waved his finger at them.  
“Ah ah ahhhh, don’t you fucking go anywhere ladies.” He cooed and all three women shuddered.  
Daryl fought to bring himself under control and was pacing from side to side.  
“They gave Wren the pig slop.”

Merle felt his stomach clench. Excuse the fuck me?

Rick turned just in time to see one of the women go to snatch up Wren’s plate and got to it first.

The women were stammering, their faces white and bodies shaking.  
“It was just a joke, no harm, just a silly joke.” One of the ladies tried to brush it off but her voice dried up at Rick’s dead eyed look. 

“This is a matter for the council to deal with. For now, I think that seeing as you ladies seem to find pig slop funny, you’ve just found yourselves reassigned to the pighouse. I do believe it’s mucking day.” Silently, the three women quickly filed out of the cookhouse and disappeared into the prison.

Merle growled.

“This the kinda place you have huh, Officer Friendly? My guess it these ‘jokes’ have been goin on a fair while.” and Merle turned to his brother.  
“And you? What you didn’t notice this shit? What the fucks wrong with you boy? Don’t take half a brain to see she trusted you!” He yelled at Daryl who looked away over the field. Why hadn’t he noticed this shit? Because he had gotten too big for his boots, as his old man would have said, right before taking his belt to him.

It didn’t take long to find Wren. Rick, Merle and Daryl carried on around the corner she had disappeared to and then there was the sounds of groaning, a squishy thwack and a thud. Thwack, thud. Thwack, thud.

Standing at the corner of the fence, where courtyard met field, Wren stood with a metal bar she had grabbed from somewhere, and was systematically clearing out the gathering walkers. All three men watched silently for a few moments. Wren had a flow and real beauty to what was a horrific task, turning it from a sickening act to almost a dance. Merle watched as more and more walkers drifted up to this isolated part of the prison yard.

“She always like this?” He nudged his brother who nodded.  
“She’s the best clearer we got.” Was the quiet reply.  
“What the fucks that mean little brother?”  
Rick replied instead.  
“The walkers push on the fences, so until we can get the entire fence line protected, groups take turns to go out and clear out the herds before they get too big. Wren’s one of the few who don’t mind doing it.”  
Merle crossed his arms.  
“And lemme guess, no one ever fights her on her doing their share, do they?”

It was like watching a robot and Merle suddenly got a sense of what life had been like for his Wren.

“How do they know to come here? I don’t see no callers or chimes or nothin like that?” With that question, even Rick and Daryl looked around and noticed Merle was right. It had simply always been that way. Wren cleared and walkers bunched near her.

It was Daryl who finally noticed. The walkers all watched and reached for her right arm, the one she used to hold the pole closest to the fence. With a snarl, he stormed over and snatched at her arm. Expecting the reactionary protective swing, he caught the pole, wrenched it from her hands and yanked up her sleeves. Her arms were littered with old and new scars and a fresh one that was slowly dripping blood as they watched. The dead at the fence clawed and groaning in a fresh wave of frenzy and with a snarl of his own, Daryl dragged Wren away, ignoring her struggling until he felt her blade on his arm and he froze. Merle was there in the blink of an eye, sliding the blade from her hand and easing his own hand onto her arm, murmuring to her so softly that Daryl couldn't hear. But after a moment, she looked away and sheathed her knife and suddenly turned back and wrapped her arms around Merle and held on fast.

Hershel didn’t say anything or even look disappointed, he merely smiled and patted her and bandaged her up and she felt relief at that. She knew that she was going to hear it from Merle and to be honest, she wasn’t upset about it. It meant he cared. To the others, she always felt like a chore, an added weight, but Merle had never made her feel that way, not even when he was yelling at her in frustration when learning to track or fight.

She walked out of Hershel's little office and saw both Dixon brothers - she finally knew their last name after all this time - waiting for her. 

But instead of the yelling she expected, by the time she got up to the men, Merle slung his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight. 

“Wren, life’s been a real bitch here I’m guessin. Good on ya for fightin luv.” 

Daryl nodded his head, glancing at her through too long hair.

As they walked down to the cell blocks, Merle kept his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close.   
“Why you never nark of any of them?” He asked casually, Wren shrugged.  
“Imma freak, weirdo, everyone hates me enough.” Merle noticed that Daryl stared at Wren from the corner of his eye.  
“And what’s this shit I hear about you not talkin? I never used to be able to shut you up! And you're talking now...”  
Wren looked away. After a long while, as they traversed the darker corridors, she pulled Merle close and pressed her face against his body.  
“Nothing worth saying with a voice like this.”

Suddenly she noticed where they were headed and her eyes leapt to Daryl’s, the gut wrenching look of betrayal on her face made Merle snarl and grab her as he felt her muscles tense, ready to bolt. Daryl merely looked confused until he heard the sounds of water and it clicked.

“Holy shit Wren, you ain’t been in there since?” Merle was now struggling to hold the wildly flailing woman as she sobbed her fear.  
“No no no no” she repeated, her husky voice echoing along the corridor.

With one final desperate twist, one that would be sure to leave a brilliant bruise, Wren was free and in a flash, had disappeared into the darkness.

Merle called after her, but knew he would never catch her now. Instead, he turned to his Brother and grabbed him by the shirt.

“I’m done playing 20 questions Darylina. You are gonna tell me what the fuck is goin on here or imma gonna kick your ass like it's never been kicked before!”


	15. Chapter 15

Merle felt sick and angry and terrified so instead of dealing with it, he did what all red blooded men did, he went out and killed things. Primarily walkers in the field. Daryl had joined him after a little while and even Michonne had headed out at one point - apparently their little chat earlier had gone better than Merle expected. After a bit, there were quite a number of people out in the field. Suddenly, there were lots of people and within the hour, the field was free of walkers and the gates were temporarily held together with chains and car and trucks. 

But Merle’s fury hadn’t reduce a bit. It burned and ate away at him and even though his body was tired, his mind was going over and over all the things Daryl and some of the others had told him. They had started with her arrival and ended when Merle showed up. But there were huge gaps. The group that had sat down for the evening meal were all quiet as they realised just how much they didn’t know about the tiny Wren. And what was suddenly filling in the blanks.  
Carol had had the idea to speak to the children. They were the eyes and ears of the prison and the group learned a surprisingly large amount of interesting and surprising info on Wren. 

It was well and truly dark by the time the small group broke up for the evening. All had things to think about on top of this Governor thing as well.

The Dixon boys stood in the common area and looked at everyone readying themselves for the night and Merle was struck by a thought.

He turned to Daryl and dragged him close.

“I think I know where Wren might be!”

It took them a day to hunt her out. 

Daryl had shown Merle the prisons offices, many of which had been taken over by families, but the Director's office was still empty. A few hours of looking and they came across the plans for the prison. Merle explained Wren’s little habit of finding ‘nests’ and they searched the plans for anywhere that fit Wren’s requirements as Merle knew them.

It was the second one they checked that they found her. Faint scuff marks on the wall and oil residue on the top of the ledge along with the few streaks of walker bits gave it away. Merle nodded silently to Daryl and watched as his younger brother disappeared away into the darkness.

She had picked a good spot. They had had to remove an access panel to get here, so Merle was interested to see how Wren had gotten in. For now, he just wanted to see her and strangely enough, hold her and reassure himself she was safe.

He jumped up and wriggled through the tight accessway, over the internal pipe drop - good for if a walker ever did get in this far, Merle thought, knowing that was Wren’s thoughts too - and he squeezed passed the massive water pipes and there it was. She had gotten some lights from somewhere, those little christmas tree lights that ran on batteries and true to how he first found her, there was a stash of water and food. Her little area was smaller than one of the cells but it was clean and tidy and Merle knew she spent a bit of time here. There were piles of clothing and blankets and in a fishing tackle box, a decent pile of medications, some which Merle knew for a fact weren’t needed anymore, the kind he used to sell for a quick buck here and there.

Putting the box away, he didn’t even look up but merely looked around at her nest.

“Love what you’ve done with the place sugar.” A rustling of fabric over his shoulder and to the left told him he was right. Birds do prefer trees after all.

He turned and looked up. Peering down at him from on top of the massive water pipes was Wren’s pinched pale little face. 

“You coming down or me coming up?”

Her face disappeared and Merle took that for a no to coming down. With a curse, he took a running leap and wedging his legs on either side of the pipe, hauled himself up and over and into Wren’s pile of blankets.

He lay there panting for a moment.  
“Fuck Wren, I am getting too old for that shit girlie.”  
“Didn’t ask you up.” Was the husky sullen reply. That was all it took. After a few minutes of rolling and wriggling and a lot of cursing, Merle finally got comfy in Wren’s little nest of blankets and without even thinking about, hauled her in like he had always done and tucked her firmly up against him.

She tensed for a while, neither of them saying anything, then suddenly she buried her face in his shirt and breathed deep.

“You like the way I smell huh Birdie?” Merle chuckled and after a moment, Wren nodded slightly. Then Merle could feel her pause.  
“You washed up.” Her husky voice vibrated against his chest and he pulled her in that little bit tighter.  
“Yeah….used that shower setup they have got. Nice to have hot water shower again.” He ignored the way she tensed up beside him. “You should give it a go Birdie.” Merle sighed as Wren started to shake and he pulled her up so that she lay on his chest and tucked her head under his chin and simply held her with both arms, just like old times.

After a long while, he felt her lift her head.  
“You know.”  
It wasn’t a question.  
Merle nodded.  
“Threatened to kick baby bros ass if he didn’t tell me what the fuck everyone here was doing to my Wren.” Paused and took a deep breath. “I’m proud of ya Art, you did good.”  
The response he got wasn’t the one he was expecting.

She reared up and punched him across the face, and he managed to block the other fist before it connected with the other side. Holding her, he rolled until she was on her side facing him and he had both her wrists in one hand and both legs trapped between his but not on her, he didn’t want to make her feel that threatened. Wren was screaming and sobbing at the same time, eventually Merle was able to make out what she was saying.  
“I fought, just like you taught me, but he still got me, but I promised you so I fought and I fought and I hurt him and I wanted so bad to kill him and then they stopped me then everyone hates me and is scared of me and what's so damn worth being proud about?” She sobbed. It seemed like all Wren did nowadays was cry, but Merle figured it was a year of emotions finally draining out, so he pulled her into his arms and as he always had, he stroked her back and murmured her name and held her until she settled.  
Once she was calm, he pulled back to look at her.  
“Wren, I’m proud of ya because you are the strongest bitch-hellcat I ever met! This shitty life keeps trying to break you and you, you just keep giving it the finger and telling it to fuck off! I seen chicks in the army with less strength than you! Because you fight.”

Wren mumbled against his chest. It took a minute to sink in and he tightened his arms.

“Figured as much, ain’t nothin wrong with that neither girlie, when there’s nothin left worth fightin for. Choosing your own way out, nothin wrong with that. But promise me, tell me first? Now I found ya, I ain’t lookin to lose you anytime soon.” 

Wren nodded and within minutes, was asleep.

 

********&&&&**&&&***&&&******

Life seemed easier for Wren now. She still chose to sleep in her nest most nights and Merle had rolled his eyes and cuffed her when she told him to keep it secret. As if it needed saying. Wren agreed that Daryl could know as long as he only ever came in an emergency. Other nights, she spent tucked up with her HillBill in his cell.

Nowadays she was never alone. She always had either Dixon boys by her side at all times, mostly Merle. The slights that she had been always on the receiving end, stopped once the official punishment of the three women became known. Pig duty for two months, walker burning for 3 months. It was also because the eagle eyed Dixon brothers didn’t let a thing pass them by. Wren ignored the looks and whispers she and Merle got. She was well used it it but the difference was that now, she couldn't care less what these people thought of her anymore. 

She started smiling more, even if it was that little crooked smile and even shocked some people when she giggled at something Merle or Daryl had said.

The biggest surprises were that Wren started talking again. Only a little bit and only to the Dixon brothers and people like Carol Maggie and Hershel and very occasionally to Rick, but she was definitely overheard. The other was the touching. Wren had always made it very clear that NO ONE touched her. Ever. Her knife was always sharp and she had never been hesitant to bring it out if she thought people weren’t getting the message. But suddenly, she was hanging off the older Dixon like a monkey on a tree. They seemed to be always close and touching in some way. Her hand gripping the back of his shirt, his hand on the back of her neck or his arm slung over her shoulders, occasionally people swore they even saw the two holding hands.

Merle even caught her up over his shoulder one day, with her kicking and threatening him with all sorts of violence and carried her outside, Daryl and Carol following closely behind.  
He sat on a bench seat out in the courtyard and plonked the furious woman between his legs and held her to him with a strong arm around her waist and fingers pulling at her dreadlocked hair. Not a single blade or knife was produced and Wren kicked and struggled until suddenly she simply stopped. Slumping down, she sulked, her arms crossed and held clearly in place by Merle's bladed arm and legs and Carol handed Merle a comb with a wry grin.

People literally stopped and stared as they watched what unfolded in the courtyard. The loudmouthed, foul minded one handed redneck spent the next 2 hours gently detangling and combing and cutting the hair of the tiny damaged mute woman - with the occasional assistance from Carol while Daryl, the highly respected Alpha man chatted with them all, even on occasion getting a giggle from the no longer sulking lass.

By the end, Wren’s nest was now a smooth short bob cut that suited the pixie woman perfectly.

But to everyone else, Wren remained the same - mute, watchful, scary.

Merle’s own prickly personality kept quite a few people away as well, not that it seemed to bother him. Wren discovered that Glenn and Maggie both avoided Merle and when she found out why, couldn't blame them at all. It also seemed that Glenn had shifted some of that hatred onto her as well, simply for picking Merle, Wren supposed, so her little group of friends shrunk to the Dixon boys, Carol and Hershel and Rick.   
One thing Wren did do was put a stop to Merle’s over the line racism and sexism. He found out the hard way when she punched him in the stomach and stormed off, only for him to find that she wasn’t in her bolt hole. For a whole night and day she stayed away, neither of the Dixon boys could find her.  
After that he reined back the insults. 

She was by Merle’s side when some blonde chick showed up towing a damn walker of all things. 

This Andrea chick was apparently part of the attacking group and used to be part of Rick’s group? Wren couldn’t really follow it but she did know that Merle and Andrea were not friends, especially when he revealed that Andrea was The Governor's bedwarmer. Andrea had snapped and told him he knew it wasn't like that and then accused him and Michonne of poisoning the group against her and Wren found herself fleeing the discussion and returning to her task of clearing the fences. It was the first time she had been away from either of the Dixon’s sides since Merle arrived and she felt strangely vulnerable and twitchy, sending her straight back to when she had very first arrived. So she reverted to comforting routines and lost herself in her tasks. 

So when Merle suddenly appeared beside her and stabbed a walker, she flinched and swung her blade up in immediate defense. Merle stepped back, hands up in surrender and a real pissed off look mixed with surprise.  
“The hell Wren?”   
Wren froze for a moment, then forced herself to relax.  
“Sorry HillBill, habit.” She shrugged apologetically and after a moment, the older redneck yanked her in for a rough hug.   
“No hard feelings Birdie, glad to see ya still alert.”  
Wren cocked her head at him. That was a definitely weighted comment and she waited for the follow up.

Merle looked around at the prison and the road and the forest beyond, his hand pulling at his chin before he spat on the grass.

“Thinkin it might be time to get outta here Wrennie. That Governor, he’s a real nasty piece of shit and he is gonna rip this place apart. And all these fluffy suburbanites? Are just walker bait.”

Wren studied Merle, her head cocked to the side as she chewed her bottom lip and fiddled with her blade.

“Daryl coming?” She asked, already knowing the answer and got it when Merle cursed a blue streak. She leaned into Merle and as he wrapped his arm around her, she rested her nose on his chest and breathed in.

“Common Wren, it’s not like this place has been that good for you heh. You n me n Daryl, we could make it out there, you know it.” He whispered into her hair and she smiled. That was her Merle. But her smile melted away and she drew in one final breath before looking up.

Merle was cursing before she even met his eyes.

“Goddammit bitch! You stay, ya’re gonna die, that’s a fact.” He yelled and then spun and viciously stabbed a walker that groaned loudly at him. Then another.

But he stopped when Wren put her hand on his arm, but he didn’t look at her, just kept his eyes on the tempting greenery that was only a few feet away.

“Merle, I gotta stay. I know you don’t understand, but I do. But you go.” He looked at her in shock and confusion. “You out of everyone here, except maybe Michonne” and Wren chuckled her husky laugh, “will be fine out there. HillBill, I’m too fucked up. You know it as well as I do. At least here, I won’t get eaten after a nightmare.” She grinned cheekily up at the solemn man and patted his cheek but didn’t take offense when Merle smacked her hand away.

“Fuck you ‘Art’” Merle yelled and Wren watched sadly as Merle stormed away to the Prison. She knew he was only angry because he felt trapped. She knew that even if he left her behind, he wouldn’t leave his brother. Slowly she followed Merle back up to the prison and watched as he stormed past Andrea and Rick with a muttered word.


	16. Chapter 16

So it wasn’t a surprise when much later Rick came to Wren at the fence and asked where Merle was. Wren had overheard the proposed deal and privately figured it wouldn’t matter who they gave up, they were all dead anyway. But Merle, Merle fought for what he wanted and Wren understood him so her first question to Rick was “Where’s Michonne?”. 

Daryl was already on his bike at the gates when Wren slid on and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“What the fuck Wren? You ain’t commin!” Daryl turned and glared at her but she merely blinked and tightened her grip. “Wren! Get the fuck off NOW!” He yelled and tried to pry her arms off but a quiet sound stopped him cold. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Wren sniffed.  
“Daryl, he’s all I got left.” Was all she said. But that was all she needed to say. With a hearty rev of the engine, Daryl roared off down the road.

They met up with Michonne later on down the road who told them that Merle had let her go, eyeing both Daryl and Wren oddly. Wren cocked her head and looked back at the strong woman Wren often wished she was like.

“Why?” She asked, not really a question though.

Michonne returned the studying look and after a moment, nodded her head.

“You know.” and with that, continued her trip back to the Prison. Daryl looked at Wren.

“What in the Christ was that all about? I swear you bitches have your own fuckin language.”

But Wren just looked at Daryl, worry in her eyes and all she could say was “Hurry!”

 

They got off the bike before they got close to the meeting point and ran the rest of the way, dodging small herds of walkers and they could both hear the sounds of shooting ahead. Wren thought she had felt terror before, but it was nothing to what she felt now. Something was very very wrong and every cell in her body was urging her to hurry hurry HURRY. 

As they both ran Wren and Daryl took down any walker that got in their way. Ahead a radio blasting music suddenly shut off and the hurry hurry hurry turned into MOVE YOUR ASS GIRL! And Wren sprinted past Daryl, ignoring his harshly whispered order to come back. Ahead she could hear trucks taking off and gunfire fading away and her heart felt as though it was going to explode from her chest. Daryl had caught up and was matching her stride as they raced into the meeting hall. But it was empty except for a dozen downed walkers. Spinning around, Wren listened and snagging Daryl’s vest on her way past, yanked him out a side door just in time to see a heavily fortified truck start up and drive away. 

But it was the man hanging out the side of the truck door shooting wildly and joyfully at walkers that had Wren freezing. At that moment, if Daryl hadn’t been there to take out the three walkers that closed in on her, she doubted she would have even noticed them bite into her.

Because for all That Night was hazy in her mind, she never once forgot that one face. That evil monster that wore the face of a smarmy Politician. It now had the addition of a eyepatch and she hoped with her entire soul that whoever gave that to him, made it hurt real bad!   
She thought about the souvenir that she had tucked away so very carefully and vowed that it was time to return to him what was his.

It was Daryl yanking her by the shoulder and stabbing the walker in front of her that brought her back to the present. He was swearing and carrying on, cursing that he had to find his brother while looking after some fucking dumbass bitch whose brain was suddenly gone. Fair enough, Wren thought and gutted the walker in front of her before stabbing the head to show Daryl she was back.

Without further thought, she threw her head back.

“MERLE!” Her cracked hoarse voice echoed in the old feeding yard.

Daryl slapped her across the face. “Shut the fuck up! You think we’re gonna survive if you call more geeks here?” Wren just ignored him and listened before taking off to a building to the side.

Harsh breathing led her to a blood covered Merle who was holding off a walker with one foot as he clutched his stomach.

One swipe,a yank and a dead walker later and Wren was kneeling by his side, peeling his blood soaked hand away from his stomach. Blood pooled out and Wren only prevented vomiting by sheer will power.  
She felt a wet hand on her face and looked up. Merle was staring at her, his thumb stroking her cheek and he smiled weakly.  
“Shoulda known you would be here. Always turning up where I least expect.”   
Wren pressed a kiss to the bloody palm and held his hand to her face while placing her own on his face and stroking his cheek.  
“Where else would I be, you dumb HillBilly?” And she leant down and pressed a kiss to Merle’s lips, as she had always wanted to.  
“Well hell, if that ain’t telling a man he’s dyin!” Merle snarked, softly as though it was too much trouble. He looked up and saw his teary eyed brother standing over Wren. Their eyes met and after a long moment, Daryl nodded. It was his job to make sure Merle stayed dead, and not to leave that weight on Wren.

But Wren had sat back on her haunches and slapped Merle across the face, breaking the brothers silent conversation.  
“Like FUCK you’re leaving me now! You dumbass hillBillied redneck….dumbass…”  
Merle chuckled  
“You already said that girlie.”  
But Wren was already packing the gunshot wound and ordering Daryl to find a car or truck and if he didn’t move his ass, he would be the one needing a blade in the skull!

The sound of engines pulling up made all three freeze and Daryl carefully edged to the window and relaxed.  
“It’s Rick!”

Not long after, Wren had Merle laid out on his cot in his cell as she and Hershel worked to save Merle’s life. Glances were exchanged and almost silent conversations had about Merle’s chances, but noone was willing to say anything where Wren could hear after she nearly gut one man who said they should just headshot the Dixon man and get it over and done with.

Surprising everyone but for Wren and Daryl (only a little and never would he admit it), Merle pulled through. It would take a long while to heal up, but if he could avoid infection, he had a better chance than most of surviving. 

What did surprise everyone, was as soon as Hershel gave his verdict, Wren disappeared. They had expected to have to crowbar her away from her friend’s side.

But an hour later, Wren reappeared. Every weapon she had was strapped, tied or somehow attached to her. The gathered group eyed her nervously and Rick stepped over but froze when he saw what she was wearing around her throat. The others, curious at what had gotten Rick’s horrified attention, all followed his eyes and puking was heard as someone turned away.

On a leather string around Wren’s neck was a perfectly dried penis. Along with the dried blood covering most of her clothing and the perfect handprint in blood on the side of her face, she was a terrifying sight.

Rick, swallowing hard, stepped up to Wren and very carefully spoke.

“Wren, I’m going take a rough guess here, and say you got some history going on here. But you can’t go after these guys on your own.”

Wren just looked up at Rick blankly.

“Oh I’m not. My guess is that they will be coming here. Probably in the next few hours so you might wanna run or hide or whatever it was you were planning. But me. I have something I desperately need to do. I have something that needs returning to it’s owner.” 

All around them, people shivered at the nonchalance in Wren’s tone. As though she was talking about returning someone's lost dog. Michonne stepped up and looked down at the terrifyingly scary woman. With a glance to the unique necklace, Michonne merely raised an eyebrow and Wren grinned almost evilly, then snapped her teeth together like a dog warning others away.

While everyone just stood there in shock at everything that had just been revealed in the past 5mins, Wren slipped into Merle’s cell, where he lay, still unconscious. She leant down and pressed her lips to his forehead.

“HillBill, I gotta go do something important. I know you’d understand. I may not come back and that’s okay. I’m good with that. You though, you have to try, okay. Try to fit in here. If not for me, do it for your brother. He needs you and he needs this place. You could have a family here, ya dumb redneck.” She rested her forehead on his and breathed in his scent one last time. If she was on her last ride, she wanted it with his scent in her lungs. She huffed out a laugh. “I’ve always been shit with timing. Love you HillBill, always have, always will.”   
With a final long press of her lips to his, she spun away and strode from the cell block.

By her side suddenly appeared an almost familiar scent and Wren glared at the Dixon brother.  
“You ain’t invited Daryl.”   
Daryl just swung his crossbow on his back and holstered a gun.  
“You ain’t spoken this much in the entire time I known you girl. Then you show up with something Merle and I would have done? Hell, I did it with ears. I gotta see this out. ‘Sides, Merle would have my ass if anythin happened to you.” He chuckled and Wren side eyed him before shaking her head.   
“Fucking Dixon’s.” Was all she said before another body fell into step on her other side. Michonne merely raised an eyebrow and looked down at Wren.  
“You sure are a short little thing.” Was all she said and Wren huffed amused. 

Wren wanted to take Daryl’s bike, as it would be easier to maneuver closer to this Woodbury place, but with Michonne along, they had to move to a larger form of transport. Suddenly, they had even more volunteers. Maggie and Glenn along with Rick and a few others decided to come along while the rest of the group stayed behind to evacuate the youngest and booby trap the rest of the prison.

Wren raged at the delay and only Daryl’s actual physical hand on her arm stopped her disappearing without them.

“They are taking too fuckin long Daryl! This ain’t supposed to be some church picnic!” Wren snarled at him with her broken husky voice, her hand hovering over various weapons on her body. Daryl could literally see her muscles twitching. 

Before he could change his mind, he threw her on the back of his bike and ignoring the yelling from Rick and the others, tore out of the compound. Behind them, they could hear the truck start up and people yelling, but Wren just wrapped her arms around Daryl's waist and squeezed him tight in thanks.

Woodbury was in complete disarray. People were fighting walkers, the gate looked like it had been smashed outwards and there were dead everywhere. As Wren took out walkers and shoved civilians to safety, she could hear a truck pulling in behind them and people ran to the truck, screaming for help. Immediately, the group from the prison also started to take down walkers and herd the defenseless people of woodbury to safety.

But all Wren learnt was that the Governor had gone insane, shot a whole bunch of people and smashed his way out of the town, letting in the biters. The mere word made Wren’s vision flash red. He had been here this whole time. So close and she never knew.

They certainly didn’t see him on the road on their way here, so Wren grabbed one of the more able looking men who was sporting a shoulder wound - looked like a bullet hole - and pressing her thumb to the bleeding wound, and asked where the ‘Gov’ might be now. 

Three options were spat at her before he fainted and she let him drop like trash. She was focused on one thing - time to let the others play hero for once.

One of the area’s was the holding cells, which Michonne knew and where Glenn and Maggie had been held before. So at a sprint, they smashed their way in to hear yelling coming from one of the locked doors. Michonne smashed open the door, which caught the attention of a walker that was about to take a nice juicy bite from the Governor's Whore. Wren turned away. So not her problem but apparently Michonne had her own agenda, so reluctantly Wren and Daryl helped take out the walker and free Andrea.

It was only when they sat her on the floor to assess her wounds that Andrea caught sight of Wren’s unique necklace and it only took a second before she blanched white.

“You? You did that to Philip?” Andrea asked in horror and Wren reared back at the judgement and horror in the blonde woman’s voice. But it was only for a second before she leant back again.

“Did your love tell you some sob story? Did he? About how he was wronged by some evil monster?” Wren could feel the fury bubbling away and every second she wasn’t after him, was wasted revenge time. Andrea just looked up in horror at Wren. “I may be a monster, but he’s Dr Frankenstein.”  
Wren was done. Without another look back, she ran for Daryl’s bike and was attempting to start it when her shoulder was grabbed. Her knife was out and nearly in Daryl’s chest before she realised.  
“Wren.” Daryl just stared at her and Wren could feel her hatred as though it was a live creature in her chest.  
“Daryl. It's something I have to do.” 

A moment later they were back on the road heading towards the second location the Governor might have been.

Only that way was suddenly blocked as a large herd of walkers, being led away by a truck playing music and Daryl and Wren were only just able to turn and roar away before they were noticed. The only way now was the prison. A quick heads up at Woodbury, got the group split up, one lot in the bus, the other lot in the truck and Wren finally felt like something was going right. The creature in her chest was quietening now that they were heading the right way.

Pulling up before the prison, they all crept through the forest, taking out walkers left and right, but Wren only had ears for one thing. A man was shouting through a megaphone, pontificating at the Prison, completely unaware that the people he were addressing were not even there. Wren pulled her speargun and loaded the rope onto it that she rarely ever used anymore and sighted the Governor's left shoulder. But at the last second, a large hand grabbed the speargun and Wren nearly screamed!!   
So fucking close!!   
GODDAMMIT!!   
She turned to Daryl and pulled her blade, his death clear on her face if he didn’t let go. But he stared her down and mouthed “Wait!” and nodded to her side. A reluctant glance and Wren had to double check. The Prison Group along with some Woodbury tagalongs were all lining up silently, their weapons aimed at various enemy people as they watched the prison itself and completely ignoring their backs. Wren moved and gasped. On their knees in front of the Governor, was Hershel and Carl. 

Wren shoved her fist in her mouth and bit down until blood flowed. She listened as The Governor ordered the Prison to surrender or he would kill Hershel and Carl and from the corner of her eye, Wren could see Rick being held back by Michonne and someone else. 

That decided it. She was done waiting.

As Philip raised his gun and placed it at the back of Hershel's neck - a kill shot but not a walker avoiding one, bastard - Wren raised her spear gun and fired. 

That seemed to be the signal as the Prison Group all opened fire and anyone from Woodbury holding weapons was gunned down.

It was insane.

Walkers, drawn by the noise and smell of battle, swarmed from the forest, causing a three way battle. Those that fell, would suddenly rise and attack anyone near, regardless of friend or foe.

But all Wren saw was one man. One man cursing because he had a spear through his right shoulder, chest and arm. Oh the Gods were finally on her side, she thought cruelly.

She yanked with all her strength, strength that she had been building on for the most of the past year and the Governor flew backwards, landing on his back and forcing the spear up through his chest. Within seconds, Wren was kneeling on him, her blade at his throat and his dried cock dangling inches from his nose.

Insanity was clear on his face and Wren felt similar stirring in her. Oh the things she had planned for him. She pressed her knife down and watched as the bloody started flowing.

“I think I’ll start by slicing your throat just enough and leave you out for the biters, what do you think? Maybe strip you and hang you up and let them eat you alive? But first, I’ll flay the very skin from your back so that you get the full effect.” 

Her voice was cold and passionless and it only took a second for the insanity to recede enough for the fear and recognition to be visible.

“You!” Philip whispered. “Oh I owe you bitch!” He whispered as the insanity crept back. But Wren laughed and fear crossed his face a little.   
“Ah but you see, you and me, Dr Frankenstein, we’re going out together.” and with that, she slammed her knife but into the side of his head and sent him unconscious.


	17. Chapter 17

It was Maggie who finally realised that Wren wasn’t around. She had looked for the woman to thank her for saving her father’s life, but no one had seen her since the shooting began.  
Daryl, his heart in his throat, flashbacks to another futile search for a missing girl whirling past his mind’s eye, screamed out her name. Carol rushed to his side trying to calm the redneck who refused to be soothed.

A quick search in the slowly dying afternoon also showed that there was no Governor amongst the dead. Rick, with his arm wrapped tight around his son, ordered a quick search of the area, everyone to stay in groups of three or more as walkers were still coming.

Daryl finally found the nearly obliterated drag marks and followed. It wasn't long before Daryl and the group came across an exhausted Wren sitting up in a tree as she finished tying off the rope to the hanging Ex Governor.

She totally ignored the group until Rick stepped forward, then she pulled a gun and pointed it at them all, her face cold and blank.

Philip had woken up and from the sudden jerking and muffled-through-his-gag vocalizing, realised what was going on. His toes barely touched the ground and he was shirtless and bleeding slowly from the wound where a spear bolt had once sat lodged.

Wren almost fell down out of the tree, she was so exhausted. She had had to fight off numerous walkers before getting here otherwise she would have been nearly done before anyone found them. The Governor had woken and fought at one stage and nearly got away if it hadn’t been for the rope still attached to the spear. Wren had taken great pleasure in yanking him back like a naughty dog on a leash. She had received a headbutt to the face for her troubles, but she shook it off, all her focus on revenge.

Rick stepped forward, hands up placatingly as he approached Wren.

“Wren, I don’t know what you got planned, but this ain’t how we do things. Now I understand…”

Wren’s scream of rage cut him off.

“You understand fuckall! This ‘man’, this fucking monster, deserves this pain and so so much more!”

The group just watched as Wren paced wildly next to the hanging man as he groaned in pain from the pulling on his wound, amongst other injuries.

Maggie went to speak, but the gun waved in her direction shut her up quick. Daryl slowly moved in front of everyone, trying to get Wren’s attention. But she was trapped in her head.

“I was safe, I was fine, HillBill and me, we were good. Then this” and she pointed the gun at Philip’s head, “this monster and his group took me and hurt me and BROKE me!” Without another word, she shot him in the leg and he threw his head back and screamed into the gag. Sam, one of the men from the Prison, went to dart forward, but Wren was still aware enough to wave the gun at him and force him back. Daryl stepped in front of Sam and directed Wren’s attention back to him.  
“Wren, I know what you wanna do. I do, and I’m with you girlie. But you go there, you ain’t comin back girlie.” He said quietly and it seemed he got through, because she raised tear filled eyes and met his.  
“I was never here. Never. A broken toy doing broken things, hated by people who throw away broken stuff. Nothing.”   
Dread sat in Daryl’s stomach and he looked sideways at Rick who had the same look.

“Sure you were here Wrennie,” he murmured quietly, calmly as he kept her attention on him, as Rick and Glenn slowly made their way around the hanging man and his handmade monster. “You found Merle, and Carol and Beth and all us at the Prison, you are here. You have us.” 

Wren smiled sadly and shook her head. 

“This is what I have.” She pulled her shirt off and turned around. Her back showed a complete maze of scars, thick and thin, pale and red, every combo there could be. The only thing blocking the view were the loose straps of her sports cammy.  
She turned back to Daryl and looked at him knowingly. “THIS is what I have now.”

But then she turned her head an inch and said over her shoulder.

“Rick, the only thing you are going to do from there is get someone hurt.” RIck froze and Wren glanced at him further over her shoulder.

“You think I’m wrong?” She asked the ex sheriff directly. He just held his hands out, desperately trying to hide his response to the full sight of her back.  
.  
“Wren, we do it like this, we are no better than them.” He replied, just as quietly as Daryl.

The group all watched silently, knowing something more than just this one thing was going on.

Wren reached up and drew off her necklace, before hanging it around the Ex Governors neck.

“I never claimed to be better.” She whispered.

Philip now just stared at her, his whimpering now gone as his insanity came back. Instead he just smiled at her through the gag and Wren reached up and pulled it out.

“Ah my little spitting whore. Should have known better than to shove my dick in your mouth, but after that stunning ride you gave...mmm, couldn't resist. And hey, no one else had had the courage to bite, so why would some fat, ugly little no one suddenly have some?” He chuckled. “MY bad.” He said, scrunching up his nose and giggling slightly. His face changed suddenly and was filled with rage. “Made pissing real painful, but I always consoled myself with the fact that I had you whipped until your skin hung in tatters and I always thought the biters ate you alive. Huh. That back looks real pretty though.” He glanced around at the gathered group and laughed. “While I owe you for that,’ he motioned to his new necklace, “ It did make the ladies real sorry for me. Why Little Andrea, the things she would do…” he drifted off and looked at Wren as though she was going to be upset or something, but Wren just shrugged.   
“Meh, like I care about your whores. All I want is your agonising, painful torture before your beggin for death.”  
“Ah, but will that stop the nightmares, little bitch?” Philip just laughed until Wren, with her own smile, stretched up and whispered in his ear.

All Daryl caught was “... Penny…” but it was enough for the man to thrash wildly against his bonds, cursing her and screaming things he would do to her, his leg now streaming with blood and people at the back of the group were now guarding against more and more walkers as they were attracted by the group.

Rick tried one last time.

“Wren, you do this, you can’t come back.”

Wren looked at him with sad eyes and she laughed sadly but knowingly.

“I know.”

Daryl had had enough. He had watched as this woman changed in front of his eyes, as she fought for their home, even when to her it seemed everything was against her. She had brought to his brother a look Daryl had never seen before and he had marvelled at the almost instant change Merle had had on the quiet little warrior. He wasn’t going to let her throw it all away on some scumbag - even though he firmly agreed with Wren and knew Merle would too - the group wouldn’t, didn’t understand that drive, not yet anyway.

So he made his decision and he dove. Almost quicker than he had ever imagined her moving, he saw the gun whip around to him and her finger moved. As his arms wrapped around her waist and he took her down, he heard the gunfire and Wren scream.

Seconds later, Rick was wrestling the gun from her hand, and Daryl wrapped himself tight around the violently struggling woman. At least until he realised she wasn’t trying to escape but was sobbing his name and running her hands over his chest. He looked down and saw her sobbing face and instantly realised that she thought she had shot him.  
He grabbed her face and held it still until she met his eyes.  
“You couldn't hit the side of a barn at three paces.” He whispered and it took a second before it sunk in and she collapsed and lay still on the ground, her eyes shut. Daryl looked at her in confusion. Maggie bent down and shook Wren’s shoulder but no response. Quickly checking for a pulse, he sighed in relief when a slowing but still racing beat tickled his fingers. Shrugging, he picked her up bridal style and nodded to the Ex governor.

Rick had Wren’s gun in his hand and was looking at it as he checked the chamber and rounds.

“I know we all have an idea of what was gonna happen here, but we don’t do that. We can’t . That’s not us. But the world as we know it now is completely changed from how it used to be.”

He walked over to Wren and shook her before slapping her face hard. Daryl went to protest, but he felt the woman in his arms jolt aware.

“Wren, what you had planned, we can’t do that, no matter how justified. But you weren’t wrong in that it and everything that has happened has to have consequences. “ He motioned for Daryl to put the woman down and he handed her the gun.

“If you want to end this, then do it clean. Do it right.” He nodded at the man hanging from the tree. “It's going to be done, either by you or me.” Wren looked up and studied the Sheriff, her head cocked as though to judge his sincerity.

Without even blinking, she raised her arm, glanced over her shoulder once, and shot the Ex Governor directly between the eyes.

 

“Couldn't hit the side of a barn at three paces, huh?”


	18. Chapter 18

Wren slept curled up next to Merle for 3 days, neither of them moving, not even when Merle was tended to by his brother. 

When Merle finally woke properly, he noticed his weary brother standing by his cell door, arms crossed, looking exhausted.  
“You look worse than I feel baby bro.” Daryl just huffed in response and motioned his chin towards Merle.  
“I swear Merle, you must’ve pissed off the Devil into not taking you at some point.”   
Merle looked down at his bandaged stomach and knew that was Daryl’s way of saying it was too close. A breath of air on his arm had him looking to his side. Wren was tucked up between him and the wall on the tiny prison cot, her hand gripping the edge of his bandages as though he would disappear on her. Carefully, he adjusted her until she lay along his side, her head under his chin and her arm gently across his sore stomach. Bruises covered the girl and she was in a clean white tshirt and a glance under the sheet showed just white panties. Merle glared up at Daryl who shrugged.   
“Carol” was all he said and Merle relaxed and let sleep pull him back under. 

 

Life slowly returned to normal at the Prison as the residents of Woodbury moved in as well. Routines settled and people connected.

It wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns. 

Wren reverted into a sort of catatonic state when she woke up. Hershel and the Woodbury Doctor both agreed that the trauma of the last year had finally culminated and Wren was now passively blocking it away. She didn’t even flinch when one of the ex Woodbury men tripped and slammed into her as she sat at the dining tables in the sunny courtyard. Merle on the other hand nearly gutted the clumsy fool.   
Everyone seemed to have a theory on how to ‘fix’ Wren but Merle stood firm. No One was to touch Wren and no one was to treat her like she wasn't there. Daryl and Carol caught on quick and were happy to help out on the occasional need, but for the most part Merle looked after his Wren. It was just like old times somehow. Wren with her hand attached to Merle in some way, shadowed the Dixon man, never really getting in his way, needing only a touch of his hand or elbow or body part to do whatever it was he needed her to do. All without words. Daryl and the others quickly saw how those two had functioned so well out there before if this was even half how it had worked.

It was when Merle was getting past the point of serious healing that he was getting antsy. He had been slowly moving between his cell and the sunny courtyard and leaving Wren with Carol the few times he used the shower rooms, but he was aching for some action and the fences were in need of clearing. The new influx of residents meant that the reinforced fences were going up quicker, but with nearly ¾’s of the entire prison to enclose, it would take a long while.  
So with Wren in tow, Merle headed down to the side where the walkers were clustering again, his grin spreading at the thought of some violence. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as he approached the fence line. 

Greg and Barney and a few other of the men- all fairly new to the Community - were currently doing their clearing duty, but as Merle watched, with a snarled lip of disgust, they were being precious babies about it all.

With a shake of his head in disgust, he spat towards the 8 men.

“What’s with you pussies? Scared of a little blood? Hells, my gal here used to be able to clear this lot without even breakin a sweat.” Merle stepped up and swung, stabbing a walker and watching with satisfaction as it slumped to the ground.

One of the newer men snorted mockingly.

“Yeah, I heard about your little freakazoid there. Not for one second do I believe it, look at it, she looks like a fuckin walker herself. Someone should do her a favour and tap her…” His voice drifted off as he felt the tip of an arrow press to the back of his head.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t ever be sayin shit like that about our Wren, ya hear? We’re real protective.” Daryl drawled and the man’s face drained white. Merle snorted in laughter.   
“Careful Baby bro, think the little miss there might piss his pants.”

But suddenly there was a shout and a scream and everyone spun around to see that where the latest part of the reinforced fence was connecting to the original fence had collapsed and a large herd of walkers were streaming into the field. The large herd immediately split up, some heading up towards the now screaming populace and the others towards the closer clearing group and the Dixon’s.

Cut off, the group bunched up and started swinging, but two of the men were taken almost immediately. Daryl spun and was by his brother's side in a heartbeat, Wren firmly between the two of them, serenely holding onto the back of Merle’s shirt as both Dixon men swung and stabbed. Merle was still hampered by his healing stomach wound so Daryl was trying to protect both Merle and Wren AND the rest of the small group that was now surrounded - walkers in the field and walkers at the fence.

Merle snarled as a wild swing from one of the clearing group caught him on the shoulder and cursing loudly, he nearly stabbed the man instead of the walker the moron had been originally going for.

Suddenly there was a blur and Merle felt his knife leave his holster and before he could even blink, Wren had gutted the closest walker and stabbed straight up through the chin as it fell towards her. With only a brief glance of shock shared between the Dixon boys, they both charged in beside her.

It wasn’t long before the fence was back up and the more experienced teams were taking out the intruders. Wren, Merle and Daryl were a sight to watch. While the Dixon brothers worked well as a team, Wren and Merle seemed to work as one unit. Never far apart, they whirled and cut and stabbed until the entire field was cleared.

Wren stabbed the last, a woman in a red evening dress, and spun around, placing her back against Merle’s chest as she surveyed the now safe field. Everyone was just standing and staring - the surviving men from the clearing group in stunned horror and shock really - as Wren suddenly realised where she was.

Looking up and seeing Merle looking down, she sighed in relief and sagged against him as he caught her with his bladed arm.

“Gonna guess I missed some things?” She smiled up at Merle and rubbed the back of a filthy bloody hand across her brow, wiping hair out of the way.

Without a thought, Merle leant down and firmly kissed his Wren, his arm holding her tight to him. Without even a split second delay, Wren was pressing back, her tongue teasing at the seam of Merle’s lips and he pulled up her, holding her close, her head bent backwards as he finally let his frustrations and fear and desire pour out of him and through their kiss.

Wren wriggled until Merle relaxed enough for her to climb around and wrap both sets of limbs around him as she returned his kiss enthusiastically. It was Rick clearing his throat that finally got their attention and Wren buried her face into the side of Merle’s neck and ignored everyone. It felt as though she had been asleep and unable to wake up for a long time, everything was fuzzy and vague, but this, this scent that she had latched onto so long ago, had always kept her grounded. She felt her ride start to move and a muffled groan alerted her to the fact that Merle was hurting. In an instant, she had scrambled down and was running her hands over his body, frantically searching for bite or scratch marks but only finding the now seeping belly wound and the new gash on his shoulder.

He shrugged when she swore at the new injury.   
“Fuckin newbies.” Was all he said and immediately Wren’s eyes started scanning the crowd, as though she could find the culprit by simply looking. But Merle’s chuckle brought her attention back to him.

“Fuck ‘em. Weren’t you showin me how much you missed ol’ Merle?” And he hauled her up again as they entered the cellblock and kicking his cell door shut and pulling across the curtain, he lay her down on the cot and shuffled her over until they lay in their usual position, her head on his chest, his arm around her waist. But this time, she wasn’t staying there. She scooted up and looking down into blue eyes that she loved so much, she gently kissed each part of the craggy face before returning to the lips she had been dreaming about for so long.

“Art, missed you birdie.” He whispered, tears in his eyes and Wren knew this would be one of the only times she would be allowed to see this part of him. She straddled her HillBill and grasped his face with both hands,

“I don’t know what’s going to happen. Hell, I don’t know what the hell HAS happened, but I love you Merle Dixon. Never doubt that. I always will.” And kissed his lips so gently.

Merle’s arms wrapped tight around Wren, so tight she could barely draw breath, but she knew what he was trying to say and she smiled into his chest.

 

It took both Dixon brothers AND Carol to convince Wren to finally use the showers again. There were 2 false starts, where Wren got the the mouth of the tunnel leading to the shower block and then bolted - and one where she stayed hidden for nearly 16 hours and got torn into by both worried Dixons when she finally returned.  
One time, they got her right into the shower block, but someone calling out spooked Wren and Merle had to be restrained from beating the man to a early death.

Until finally, after a verbal dressing down by Merle, who had finally had enough, he put Daryl on guard duty and physically dragged her into the shower room. They had not yet had penetrative sex as Wren was still processing some things, but they had done plenty of other things that caused some blushes and coarse jokes between the brothers. The only thing she had yet to see him completely naked while conscious. So as he pulled her into the shower room, he started literally ripping off his clothing, right in front of her and in some cases, throwing the clothing on or over her. He got his little Birdie’s attention right away. He smiled knowingly at her - he should have tried this first time around. He had figured out pretty quickly just how attractive His Wren found him. She confessed at one point about the instant attraction she had had and Merle half jokingly cursed his crappy behaviour and how it had deprived him of such a treat for so long. Wren had just rolled her eyes.

It took Daryl banging on the steel doors and insulting Merle’s manhood to get them out of the shower block that day. From then on, showering was a contact sport for Wren ( which added incentive for people to leave the shower block for just the two of them ) and while there were a few complaints, a glare or two from the Dixon brothers was enough to silence them.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very Short Epilogue -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really not happy with how I ended this, but I am losing interest and I am determined to have no more unfinished works (as I still have SO MANY!!) So I may come back and update if I ever get the urge - which to be honest, is unlikely unless I get some interesting and inspiring feedback or critique
> 
> But I do Love Merle and I hope that I am someday inspired to write him again. But Daryl is next on my list ---mmmmmmm I do love my rednecks!

People often wondered about the strange couple in the following months and years. They never really seemed to fit in - he was too abrasive and she was quiet and a tad strange. Some first thought that they were a Father/Daughter when they saw the older man giving the obviously younger girl piggybacks or holding her hand while she swung it, just like a child. Watching them work together though or even just speaking with them, soon put that thought to rest.  
When the Prison joined up with other groups of survivors, many people opted to move away from the prison and into the more town-type areas, the Dixon’s along with many of the original group from before Woodbury all stayed.

For Merle and Wren it was simple. They were never going to be ‘White Picket Fencers’ going to potlucks and chatting with neighbours at social gatherings. While Daryl slowly merged enough into the different communities - his marrying one of the women from Alexandria helped - Merle and Wren found life more comfortable for themselves in their fringe lifestyle. They weren’t the only ones, many now preferred smaller groups, hunting, tracking and like Wren and Merle, would often disappear into the wilds for days on end.

But as the old Council of the Prison now saw and occasionally remarked on, the two were so obviously soulmates, their affection and trust obvious to even the most harshest of their detractors.

And in these end of times, what more could there be?


End file.
